


Curtain's Fall: Encore

by omphalos, Wolfling



Series: Of Old Mystics [11]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Epic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Post-Canon, Romance, Schmoop, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphalos/pseuds/omphalos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/pseuds/Wolfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feel-good winding down at the end of the show...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of Old Mystics was originally published in regular instalments between May 2003 - March 2005. The story began some months after the end of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, season 7. Curtain's Fall is the fifth and final volume of the epic saga, and it's so long we split it into five unequal sections. This is the final part, Encore, and it includes the epilogue to the whole of the Of Old Mystics series.

Ethan stayed on his knees beside Skunk on the clifftop, letting the wind buffet him, and the rain sting his face. The others stood up behind him and conversed about... something. It hardly mattered what. He couldn't hear anyway as the words were swept immediately away into the storm.

Ian's storm.

Ethan had hoped for something stronger. This one only just rated as more than a mere bluster, but when he'd felt into its patterns, he had immediately relaxed. This was a good storm, deep and complex and full of mystery and strange beauty. It couldn't have been better really.

He'd had a handful of crow feathers –well, they had been long and black anyway, sleek too– which he'd collected from all around Whitebrook House here in Devon. They had included one very special one, a pinion feather he'd felt sure by its size. It'd had a streak of white-grey near its tip. Something about it had felt numinous. It had been Ian's feather, just like this was Ian's storm.

Everyone had said their piece now, some words of remembrance or tribute to Ian, and Ethan had gone last. No one had disputed his right to that position, but after listening to the erudition of the others, and nodding or chuckling or swallowing hard as the words demanded, Ethan had found he didn't have many of his own.

He'd held his handful of feathers up as high as his arm could stretch and released them. He'd watched them loop and dance out to sea, the largest feather, the numinous one, almost pirouetting as a particular air current caught it up, but it too had disappeared from sight in the end. Then he'd sunk to his knees and whispered, "Miss you, old crow," into the wind and left it at that.

Skunk had barked twice and then sat down beside him, apparently satisfied.

Lucy, adept as always at organising social encounters, had immediately invited them all to their knees to join Ethan, and she'd led them in a – well, Ethan guessed it had been a prayer of sorts, although the wording had been strange. A Wiccan thing, he suspected. And then it was over, and Ian... was passed, past, dead and gone, and bid farewell.

He sighed. A hand touched his shoulder; he looked up and met Rupert's understanding gaze. _'Take as much time as you need,'_ Rupert sent, seeming prepared to wait out in the rain as long as Ethan wanted.

 _'I can make a bubble for us,'_ Ethan offered, smiling weakly, _'if it wouldn't be too rude to exclude the others. It takes a lot of power, and Ian's storm, for all its virtues, isn't exactly throbbing with nickable juice.'_

Rupert shook his head. _'It's not that cold. We'll survive getting a little wet.'_

Nodding, Ethan looked back down at the grass and began tracing the patterns within the blades. He waited until he'd felt the others move off, returning to their cars, horses, etc, before standing and allowing Rupert to take him into his arms. He felt Giddy brush against the back of his legs. The hound was getting very tall now. Both dogs were wrapped up in doggy waistcoats, much to their mutual disgust, Ethan was sure.

He chuckled softly against Rupert's ear. "It didn't help that some of my best memories, the ones I most wanted to share, were rather too obscene to relate with the girls present."

"I'm rather of the opinion that they're too obscene to relate with anyone present," Rupert observed wryly, "but I'm sure Ian would have taken great delight in you doing just that."

"Do you think we gave him some little joy? Something good to take with him?"

"I'm sure we did. He was rather fond of you. Not that I have any arguments with that opinion; I'm rather fond of you myself."

Hmm. Was that a hint to concentrate on the living? Ethan nuzzled Rupert's neck. "We should have sex," he suggested. "You know, as a tribute."

Rupert chuckled. "You always think we should have sex."

"He liked to watch us. We should sneak back to Lucy's and out the back to that rock in the field. God, remember that day? The power of it..." Despite the occasion, the memory aroused a fierce happiness in Ethan.

"It was a memorable encounter," Rupert agreed with a fond smile. "A breakthrough for both of us."

Ethan sighed. "I just feel so... Ian isn't here. God knows what happened to his body, and his soul, who he was, was never here. This place is just a symbol for us." Ethan pulled back to meet Rupert's eyes. "He left nothing of himself behind."

"That's not quite true," Rupert said, and there was a sparkle in his eye that seemed to signal knowledge that Ethan did not as yet have.

"What?" Ethan wiggled against Rupert encouragingly, although they were so wrapped up against the weather that the gesture probably didn't carry all that well. "Why isn't it true?"

Rupert just smiled mysteriously. "Lucy's asked us to make sure we stop by the house once more before we leave."

"You must have an idea what it's about, or you wouldn't have said what you said." Ethan frowned. "Oh, now I'm all conflicted. Outdoor sex or possible Ian goodies – that's hardly fair!"

"All's fair in love and war," Rupert quoted. "Thankfully, it's just the former we've had to deal with since Saffron Walden."

The wind was getting stronger now, and part of Ethan just wanted to lose himself in it, spread out his senses and let the storm dance roughly with them. But awareness of the increasingly bedraggled dogs, and of Rupert, whose bad leg was no doubt going to be grumbling a little after all this chill damp, rather quashed the desire to go storm-surfing. Doing things without Rupert, even special things like this, had rather lost its appeal for Ethan.

Rupert was about to give up his life's work in order to be with Ethan, after all.

He took Rupert's hand. "Come on, dearheart. Let's be good boys for once and present ourselves promptly for inspection."

"I'm sure Lucy will appreciate our obedience."

Despite his words, Ethan found he was having problems actually walking away from the cliff. "You may have to help me," he admitted quietly, close to Rupert's ear.

Rupert didn't answer in words, merely kissed Ethan lingeringly, adding a stream of magic to the touch as he did so. Ethan immediately surrendered, losing himself in the embrace because that was just what he needed to do right now. He allowed himself to become so caught up that, when Rupert moved, he just moved with him, not paying attention beyond that which was needed to keep lips in contact.

That said, it didn't entirely surprise Ethan when, after a fair while, he felt the hard metal of a car at his back. Rupert drew back, looking not un-smug, and Ethan grinned. "You can feel free to distract me again in that manner any time you like."

"I'll keep that in mind," Rupert said with a cocky grin before kissing Ethan one more time and walking around to the other side of the car to sort out the dogs.

Ethan struggled out of his heavy coat before getting into the Rover. The coat was his new one, bought during the now infamous shopping trip of four weeks ago during which he'd pushed Rupert's patience and their joint bank account to their respective limits. Three-quarter length black cashmere, it was somewhere between a coat and a winter jacket and beautifully tailored. It was a joy to wear, but rather hot for inside a soon-to-be heated car.

And not altogether suitable as storm wear either, Ethan had to admit, but it looked great and that counted for a lot. Rupert was watching him with an amused expression, but he got into the car without saying a word.

Inside, Ethan belted up and scratched listlessly at the grass stains on the legs of his trousers. "I feel strange," he said pensively. "Not bad, just... odd. I'm full of memories of the last time we were here, the ecstasy of the storm and feeling free of Chaos at last... This makes a melancholy return."

"Funerals and memorials do tend towards the melancholy," Rupert replied as he started the car, speaking in a world-weary tone that told of having far too much experience with the subject. "Grief turns even the fondest of memories bittersweet." He glanced over at Ethan. "The bitter does fade with time."

"I'm not bitter." Ethan moved his hand to Rupert's thigh once the car was underway. "I wish I knew for sure he'd found Derek, but mostly I'm just sad. Sad that he couldn't have had what we now have."

Rupert dropped his hand onto Ethan's. "We've been very, very lucky."

Who would ever have thought that Ethan Rayne would turn out to be one of the lucky ones? He smiled when Rupert glanced his way again. "Doesn't seem quite right, does it? Not quite fair."

It was a moment before Rupert answered. "Life is rarely if ever fair." He glanced over at Ethan. "But that doesn't mean you don't deserve to be happy."

As Ethan's thoughts had indeed been heading in that direction again, he squeezed Rupert's thigh in appreciation. They drove the rest of the way back to Lucy's in comfortable silence, and only as the Rover crunched over the gravel, did Ethan stir and straighten himself in his seat. "I always used to enjoy wakes and their like, but for entirely the wrong reasons. The compulsion to say or do inappropriately humorous things and ride the wave of censure is almost irresistible. Not that Ian would mind, of course... "

"Ian would have been cheering you on and tempting you to even greater outrageousness, I'm sure," Rupert observed dryly with a small smile.

"That's... encouraging," Ethan could feel the beginnings of an evil grin appear on his face. "Really, I'm obliged, don't you think? He'd expect it of me."

Rupert opened his mouth, looking as if he were about to protest, but then closed it again without saying anything. Ethan chuckled. "I'd ask for a sense of decorum," Rupert said as he pulled the car to a stop in front of Lucy's house. "But I fear that's a lost cause."

"Oh come. It's no fun if you don't tell me off." Ethan undid his seatbelt and twisted around to better face Rupert. "Don't you want to protect me from the wrath of a dozen angry witches?"

"'Want' may be too strong a word."

Ethan pouted. "Spoilsport."

Rupert smiled faintly and leant over to kiss him. "Come on. I'm sure they're waiting for us." He opened his door and got out. He then opened the back door to free the dogs.

Ethan stretched wearily after getting out of the car, his urge to commit mischief already fading. Where was the joy to be found in such behaviour when it would only hurt people he cared about? "We don't have to stay long, do we?"

"No." After locking up, Rupert slid his arm around Ethan's waist. "I think you'll be happy we put in an appearance, but we don't have to stay any longer than you want to." They started to walk up the pathway to the door, the dogs walking beside them and seeming subdued.

The door was on the latch, so they just pushed it open. The ground floor was full of people, complete strangers mostly, drink in one hand and small plate of canapés in the other. They spoke in hushed voices and smiled sympathetically at Ethan when they saw him. What, was he wearing a badge or something? It wasn't as if he'd been Ian's significant other. Maybe they were just smiling like that at everyone.

The urge to break the shell of respectability into brittle smithereens was suddenly appallingly strong. Only the fact that Ethan knew Lucy had a much more appropriate bacchanal planned for her coven later, and that this genteel gathering was mostly for the more mundane of Ian's friends, was stopping him indulging in the most atrocious behaviour.

He stopped just inside the door and closed his eyes briefly, squeezing Rupert's hand tightly.

Lucy materialised out of the crowd and came up to them, reaching out to take each of their free hands. "How are you holding up?" she asked, looking directly at Ethan.

Afterwards, he never could explain what it was about that particular question that did it, but Ethan suddenly found himself with his face buried in the crook of Rupert's neck sending, _'Get me out of here,'_ in the most urgent tones he could manage.

He heard Rupert and Lucy exchange words, but he wasn't paying enough attention to figure them out. Then Rupert was moving them both, going up the stairs, the sound of the crowd fading away behind them.

All the emotion, all the loss Ethan had been repressing, because he'd had to, from the moment of Ian's death was suddenly there on the surface, and he was struggling for any kind of self control at all. _'Ripper, help me,'_ he sent as he bit Rupert's coat collar hard. He couldn't breathe properly. Fuck.

"It's all right," Rupert murmured near Ethan's ear. "I've got you."

He was moved forward again and then urged to sit down. A quick feel around with his pattern senses showed Ethan they were alone, and in what Ethan strongly suspected was the Beech Room. Immediately, he remembered his birthday party in here. He'd been sick, but it had been his best birthday ever even then. Ian... Ian had given him that book of erotic photographs and had sat a little to one side of everyone else. Always aside, always apart...

The tears came now, and Ethan didn't try to stop them. He was well beyond the point when such displays of unmanly emotion could embarrass him when Rupert was the only witness. He'd never been macho; let's face it. Even as a child, he'd been called 'sissy' and 'girl' because tears had come too easily. Until the time they'd stopped coming at all.

Rupert just held him, a solid presence for Ethan to cling to as the emotional storm broke over him. He felt Skunk move to half sit on his lap, panting softly, and Giddy sat beside him, a silent, comforting presence.

Ethan had no way of telling how long he was crying messily on Rupert's shoulder, but eventually he drew back and fumbled for his handkerchief from his trouser pocket. "Well, this is a new one for me," he said shakily, trying to laugh before he blew his nose.

"You haven't lost anyone you felt for like you feel for Ian," Rupert pointed out gently.

"I lost Nana, so I thought. I lost you," Ethan answered quietly, looking down. "But I was a small child when they took Nana and with you it was... different."

Rupert nodded. "There was always still hope for us, even at our most distant."

"I wish I knew for sure he'd found Derek." Ethan supposed he kept saying it in the hope that some proof would suddenly materialise.

"Parts of a whole will always be drawn together," came a voice from the door. Ethan jerked his head up to see Keri standing there holding a large cardboard box. "Ian and Derek were two halves of the same thing. They would have been drawn together like iron to a magnet, just as you two were."

Ethan didn't particularly want anyone else in the room right now, especially witches who were known for seeing rather too much. On the other hand, if anyone would know the answer to the question so consuming him... "Have you seen? Are they together?"

Keri smiled enigmatically. "The tide goes out, leaving the shore, but it always returns in its time. Everything is a cycle. Life and death and life again, the wheel is always turning. What was ripped apart will rejoin in its proper time."

Oh, and that meant what? Ethan had forgotten just how infuriating Keri could be... and also how intimidating. He said nothing and moved a little closer to Rupert.

"Lucy asked me to bring this up," Keri continued in a more normal tone, stepping forward and putting the box down on the bed. "We thought that, of us all, you would find the most meaning in its contents."

It was a largish box, loosely filled with a variety of things. Ethan reluctantly separated himself from Rupert as Keri seemed to be expecting him to look. It wasn't that he didn't want to see, more that he was scared of breaking down again in front of her.

He pulled out something large from the top. It was made of bright yellow and navy blue fabric – waterproofed fabric, in fact. It was an old sowester jacket, obviously well worn. God, he could almost smell Ian in the fabrics of the threads; his old mentor's patterns ran through the weave like embroidery.

Rupert smiled and reached out a hand to finger the fabric. "I suspect this is proof you're not the only one who liked standing out in a storm."

"We spoke about storms, about how we'd like to experience one together, but he already knew that we wouldn't. Look, there's a hat to go with it." Ethan reached into the box to lift the waterproof hat out, but instead found himself lifting a wooden wand. It had a pottery crow's head with glittering silver-black gems for eyes. A crow's feather dangled from the other end. "This is–" He'd been going to say 'lovely', but then his pattern sense kicked in. "Powerful."

"Indeed." Rupert was careful to keep back from touching this particular item. "Lights up rather like a Christmas tree to mage sight."

Skunk sat up straight, staring avidly at the wand. "It's not for you, girl," Ethan said, petting her with his free hand until she settled again.

He pressed the bird's head to his lips thoughtfully. If the coat was interwoven with the pattern of Ian's physical presence, this wand held the pattern of his magic. He wondered what it had been used for. As their kind of magic didn't have to involve ritual, why had Ian had a wand? Ethan supposed he'd probably never know. With a small sigh, he put the wand down reverently on top of the coat and looked back in the box.

Rupert looked in the box himself and laughed as he pulled out a plastic bag with some familiar looking seeds. "Now this is certainly a legacy worthy of Ian."

"Oh, blessed man!" Ethan flicked a glance over to the doorway, but Keri was gone. "Now we need one of those mini-greenhouse things in the back garden."

"I'm sure we can work something out," Rupert said breezily, almost too breezily.

Ethan gave Rupert a sharp look but was distracted when Rupert lifted something else from the box, a book. There were several books in the box, mostly old novels, but this one was different. A journal perhaps or... sketchbook? Rupert offered it to Ethan unopened.

Taking it a little nervously, Ethan carefully opened the hardbound cover. The first thing that happened was that a photo fell out and dropped to his lap. Putting the book down for the moment, Ethan investigated the photograph. It was an old black and white Kodak of two young men, one slender with a shock of black hair and a familiar wildness about his eyes, Ian. The other was larger, broader, fair-haired and with a strong jaw and a possessive arm around Ian. It had to be Derek.

"God, Rupert, look."

Rupert shifted to be able to look over Ethan's shoulder at the photo. He was silent for a moment then said softly, "So we finally have a face to put to the name."

Ethan trailed a finger over Derek on the photograph. "You can tell he was from the East End, just by looking at him. Couldn't have looked less gay, really – looks like a sodding gangster, like a Kray twin. Christ, poor Ian. All those years..." He turned and wrapped his arms around Rupert. "I think I've looked at enough for now. Are these things for me to keep?"

"Yes. As Keri said, they all think you are the one who would treasure these things the most."

"They are treasure. Can we go now?"

"We can." Rupert slid an arm around Ethan in a seemingly unconscious imitation of the photo. He turned his head to press a kiss to Ethan's cheek.

Ethan turned his face for more kisses. "I know we'll not get home 'til very late; it's just... I really don't want to stay here tonight. Not at this moment."

"It's all right. In fact, I have some plans, if you're up to them. Or we can just drive back to the city if you'd rather?"

"What kind of plans? Good plans?" Something that wasn't awash with a sadness he couldn't ease?

"I'd like to think so." Rupert was wearing a secretive smile now.

"I like that smile." Ethan tried his best to return it. "I think mystery plans could be just what I need right now."

"All right." Rupert kissed him one more time then stood. "Gather up your treasure chest, and we'll be on our way."


	2. Chapter 2

Ethan fidgeted on the passenger seat. He'd been restless since they set off from Devon, and as the journey had continued, the feeling had only grown worse. "So how much longer until we stop?"

"It's not too far now." Rupert glanced over at him with an encouraging smile. "It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

"And I can't get a single hint from you? A wafer thin hint? A mere morsel of a hint?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if you guessed it ahead of time," Rupert pointed out with annoying logic.

"You know how I feel about surprises." They were wonderful things for everyone but him. Ethan stared out at the road. They were in, hmm, Somerset, he thought. Or maybe Wiltshire. He hadn't been paying enough attention to know for sure. They were off the main roads and making their way through one pretty little village after another. It was late afternoon, and the sun was shining right into the windscreen at times, although one thing to say about country driving, at least the direction changed every few minutes.

"You'll like this one," Rupert assured him confidently as they entered the outskirts of yet one more village.

'Clarendon Comfrey' the welcome sign said, together with the usual admonishment to drive carefully. 'Population six', Ethan added to the sign mentally. Still, it was a nice looking village, as villages went: thatched cottages with well-tended gardens, family-run shops and not a chain name in sight. There was an old and rather grand church and a village green with, of all things, a bandstand in the middle of it. Hills rose up on either side, partly wooded, partly farmed, and a small river ran alongside the road for a little while before they bridged it. It was all quite quintessentially English.

They were just leaving the village again when Rupert indicated left and started up a winding hill, fields to one side, cottages to the other. He slowed still further to allow a sleek black crow to desert its feast of car-mangled rabbit in the middle of the road. It flapped away slowly to land on a wooden stile in a break in the hedgerow. The bird was very far from being the first crow they'd seen on their journey, but Ethan supposed it was inevitable that he'd always see corvidae as somehow significant now.

Just past the crow, they rounded a curve and reached the peak of the small hill where an old pub sat. Rupert stopped the car in front of it. "We're here."

'The Queen's Head' it was called, quite encouragingly. It was a large and higgledy-piggledy building, as if different sections had been built at entirely different times. The uniform shade of cream it was painted, apart from on the black Tudor timbers that projected in places, anyway, did lend some cohesion of style. There was a smallish carpark to the front and one side of it, which held precisely no cars, probably because a gate had been shut across it and padlocked.

Ethan turned in confusion to Rupert. "We're staying the night here?"

"For a start," Rupert replied. "Much longer than that if we fancy it."

"I don't understand."

Rupert smiled faintly. "What have we been saying we wanted to do if we had complete freedom to choose?"

Light was very slowly beginning to dawn in Ethan's stress-clouded mind. "You mean... this is our pub? We're really doing it? This is to be the Fox and Badger?"

"It's not a done deal just yet. We can still get out of it if you don't like the place, but that was what I was thinking, yes." Rupert spoke in a completely casual voice, but there was an intensity to his gaze that told how much the idea meant to him.

Ethan squeezed Rupert's thigh. "You have keys? We can explore? How the hell did you manage to keep all this hidden from me?"

Rupert produced a key ring with a set of keys from a pocket. "The answers in order are yes, yes, and I still have some facility in carrying out a covert operation."

The dogs were getting excited in the backseat. They'd been very patient in their new 'doggy seatbelts', a safety measure Rupert had added after speaking to one of the policemen involved in the clean up after the battle at Saffron Waldon. But now that the car had stopped, they seemed to want their freedom; perhaps they were also picking up on the not particularly muted excitement of their owners.

"What are we waiting for then?" Ethan asked, undoing his seatbelt. "I want to see it all."

Rupert grinned at him then moved to get out of the car. He opened the back door and let the dogs out as well.

As the dogs availed themselves of the bushes and garden areas around the carpark, the men made their way to one of the two visible entrances. It said 'public bar' on it. "You can't have already seen this," Ethan pointed out. However clever Rupert was at concealment, Ethan would have noticed him gone for so long, and anyway, their bond wouldn't have coped.

"Just pictures," Rupert replied easily as they stopped in front of the double doors. He worked on unlocking the padlock. "And some video footage. Pamela came down and went through, complete with digital camera."

"Ah, a very detailed report then, I imagine. Good to see you're carrying on with that long tradition of bosses everywhere and abusing your staff by making them do your personal work." Ethan ran his hand over the back of Rupert's coat. It wasn't as if there were anyone around to see him do it. The only sounds were Rupert fiddling with the door and the occasional bird.

"It was more along the lines of my asking and her taking over in spite of my protests, but given the results, I wasn't going to complain." The lock came free with a loud click, and Rupert opened the door then glanced over his shoulder at Ethan with a boyish grin. "Shall we?"

Ethan grinned, loving Rupert's enthusiasm as much as his own excitement. "Yes, let's."

It was dark inside, at least until Rupert found the switch, and then the place filled with a warm and not particularly bright yellow light. It was a large public bar, but so staggered in shape by the large and asymmetrical bar area that it didn't really seem like one room at all. The walls were a mix of dark wood panelling and painted areas made dingy by too much cigarette smoke, giving that perfect pub ambiance. There was a large fireplace, a door marked 'private', another one marked 'saloon bar', and fully stocked if slightly dusty shelves behind the bar.

"Fancy a drink?" Ethan asked brightly, eyeing a well-used dartboard on the wall. "And a game of arrows?"

"After we take a look at the rest of the place?" Rupert counter-suggested, walking over to the bar and running a hand absently along the well-worn wood.

The bar and the tables and chairs were made from a similar dark wood to the panelling. Ethan shivered; if they were staying here the night, they were going to need some heating. He went to the door and called the dogs in, shutting the door behind him. Their claws made scrabbling noises as they ran over the wooden floor.

It was easy to imagine this place full of people, noise and smoke. It made Ethan's mouth water for a good real ale. "This is independent, yes? It doesn't come with an unwanted umbilical cord to a brewery?"

Rupert smiled. "It's just the pub and the living quarters above it. We would be free to stock whatever we fancy."

Still almost seeing the horde of rustic types filling the room, Ethan frowned. "Will they accept us, do you think? Small country villages aren't known for their liberal attitudes." He walked over to Rupert.

"They didn't seem to have a problem with the previous owners." Rupert nodded towards the wall behind the bar where among the other decorations a small picture hung of two women with their arms around each other.

"Huh." Ethan lifted the part of the bar surface that allowed him to walk behind it. "Where did they go?"

"I believe one of them came into some money; they're off to travel and see the world." Rupert smiled. "Everybody has their own idea of retirement."

"Nicely symmetrical, that." Walking behind the bar, Ethan explored the bottles. If the women had been stupid enough to leave the draft on tap, it would be awful by now. He'd have to check later though for some unopened barrels in the cellar that lay, presumably, below the trap door just in front of him. He claimed a couple of glasses and began to clean them with cloth from under the bar. He could like it here. "I assume Pamela has had all the nasty nitty-gritty done, like surveyor's reports?"

"Surveyor's reports, legal inspections, looking into the licenses needed to run this place..." Rupert recited. "And it wasn't just Pamela who worked on that. This was paperwork I didn't mind doing at all."

Ethan snorted. "And there was me thinking you were busy neglecting me with the post-Vaurtain clean-up. Come here." He held his hands out to Rupert, inviting him to join him behind the bar.

"Well, there was a great deal of post-Vaurtain clean-up as well, and also the tying up of loose ends in preparation for me to step down," Rupert said, moving forward and taking Ethan's outstretched hands. "Although I suppose seeing about this place could conceivably fall under the latter category."

Ethan freed one of his hands and cupped the side of Rupert's face. "Let's look upstairs."

Rupert smiled and turned his head to drop a kiss in Ethan's palm. "All right." Still holding hands, he led the way across the room and through the door marked 'private'.

Beyond the door was a narrow hallway with stairs at the end. "The pub kitchen's that way," Rupert said, pointing to the left. He pointed in the other direction. "And that's the office."

Ethan grinned at how well Rupert knew the floorplans. "You should have shared this with me earlier. You've clearly been bursting with the possibilities."

Rupert smiled and acknowledged the comment with a tilt of the head. "It's occupied my spare time. Shall we go upstairs?"

Upstairs, while very far from the size of Buckham Hall's upper floors, was still complex enough to have a little of a maze feel to it, at least at first encounter. There were a lot of bedrooms –the pub had once been an inn apparently– and a good size flat, which was still fully furnished, although not at all to Ethan's taste. But then, what could one expect from lesbians? He chuckled quietly to himself as they entered the kitchen.

"What's so funny?" Rupert asked, glancing at him as they surveyed the small but adequately equipped kitchen.

"I'm being politically incorrect in my head in a way that would no doubt deeply offend one of our Slayers. Will we have a fixtures and furnishing budget?"

"Money shouldn't be a problem," Rupert assured him.

Ethan looked around thoughtfully. "Hmm, a chance to flex my interior design muscles, or is that too stereotypical to stomach?"

Rupert pulled Ethan into a loose embrace. "Someone has to do it, and you really wouldn't want to leave it up to me."

"I wonder if Kat would care to help me?" Ethan pondered. "The girl has such good colour sense. I'll ask Megan too, of course. If they brought their respective other halves, we could probably manage with minimal professional help." He paused. "I seem to be talking as if it's already ours."

Rupert smiled. "It is if we want it."

Ethan stepped closer into _the_ embrace and wrapped his arms tightly around Rupert. "It will be a very different life for you, for both of us. Are you sure you want this?"

Rupert's expression became serious, and he lifted a hand to touch Ethan's cheek. "I do."

They stood for a while, just losing themselves in each other's eyes, seeing far deeper than the surface. Ethan took joy in Rupert's patterns always, but today they seemed even more delightful. It was this place, he realised. Rupert's patterns fitted with ease here, as did his own. How amazing to feel so at home somewhere they'd never been before. "I love you," he said quietly, "And I love it here."

"So do I." Rupert closed his eyes and leant his forehead against Ethan's with a sigh of contentment. "This place... it feels as right as it looks on paper."

"Yes. We belong here. We fit." Ethan cupped Rupert's face and lifted it enough to kiss him.

Rupert indulged him in a long and lingering kiss before finally pulling back. "Shall we take a look at the rest of the place?"

"The bedroom perhaps?" Ethan laughed.

They explored the large L-shaped living room and the bathroom, which to Ethan's amusement contained a bidet. But ultimately, they did indeed end up in the master bedroom. Ignoring the highly dubious bedding and curtains, it was a lovely room. Large and airy with two sets of french windows that led out onto tiny balconies where flowerpots stood. There were dark timbers in the ceiling, which was arched like an old cottage church. Ethan stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly. "Oh. Oh yes."

Rupert leaned against the doorjamb and watched him with a smile on his face. "Passes muster, does it?"

"It makes me want to wax new-age hippy about the energy and positive space and all that gumph." Only it wasn't gumph, not if you had pattern sight. Ethan sighed happily and went to look out of the windows, holding his hand out behind him in an invitation for Rupert to join him.

"Considering my experience of living on a Hellmouth, I'll take all the positive vibes I can get," Rupert said as he crossed the room over to Ethan's side. They stared out through the glass. Beyond the pub's beer garden and yard, there was a dirt lane, and beyond that, fields rising on a slope to wooded hilltops.

Ethan called Skunk to his side with a mental command. She came scampering into the room and then sat beside them, her tongue hanging out as she stared out at where they were looking. "See, sweetheart – rabbits!" Ethan told her.

Skunk barked excitedly at that, and from elsewhere in the building, they heard muffled barks from Giddy in response. Half a moment later, Giddy appeared in the doorway. He barked at Skunk; Skunk yipped back, and there followed an entire canine conversation between the two that ended when Giddy came over to look out the window with Skunk.

Ethan moved his hand affectionately over Rupert's bum, caressing it lightly as they stood. "If I've worked out where we are correctly, we should be close to the Cerne Abbas giant here, striding across the hills in all his naked chalk glory."

"Are you contemplating some naked striding of our own?" Rupert asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ethan wasn't sure if Rupert's thoughts were going in quite the same direction as his own. He suspected that they weren't but answered as if they were. "I'm not sure we dare become our giant again, the division was so hard last time, and without people to talk us down... No, I don't think we dare go there again. But maybe in our dreams we could stride these hills of ours." He snorted softly. "They do feel like ours, don't they?"

"This whole place does, pub, flat and hills combined," Rupert agreed. "Like it was waiting for us."

Ethan turned to face Rupert. "Let's sign on the dotted then. Before anyone else can."

Rupert nodded firmly. "I'll call Pamela and have her initiate the final paperwork and red tape."

"Do it now?" They had to lay claim to it; make legitimate in the human world what already existed in the patterns. "I'll wander around and see if I can work out how to turn the heating on. Then... oh, perhaps a trip into the village for some basic ingredients for a meal? I'm assuming from what you said earlier that you've somehow obtained some special permissions here."

"I arranged for us to be able to 'test drive' the place as it were, yes." Rupert grinned as he pulled out his cell phone. "I had the feeling it would be merely a formality."

Ethan waited for Rupert to press the right buttons and then pulled him into a hard kiss, only freeing him when he heard a tinny Pamela repeating 'Hello? Hello?'. Grinning, and in exceptionally good spirits, he patted Rupert on the arse and disappeared off looking for heating controls.

***

That evening found them lounging on the rug in front of a handsome fire in the living room hearth. The remnants of a quickly put together meal lay between them. Giles drained his glass and sat back with a contented sigh. "An excellent dinner if I do say so myself."

"That will be as a result of my special touch," Ethan said, grinning.

The 'touch' had consisted of being allowed to add a single pinch of salt under Giles' watchful eye. Or, Giles supposed, Ethan could be referring to the groping he had indulged in whilst Giles had been trying to cook. "Or in spite of your special touch trying to distract me," he teased with a slight smile.

"I have nothing to distract you from now," Ethan said, slipping his hand over Giles' leg to caress his inner thigh.

"We should really clean up," Giles observed, not at all seriously, although he did his best to appear that way.

Ethan raised an eyebrow and then got to his knees. He put their plates together and slowly shovelled them away to the side. "There. That's that done." He moved a hand back to Giles' thigh and up until he was stroking over very sensitive areas. Still on his knees, he leant forward to kiss Giles.

Giles kissed him back, but then with a deadpan expression said, "We still need to wash the dishes–"

"Rupert?" Ethan asked, rubbing the heel of his hand over the growing bulge in Giles' trousers.

"Yes?" Giles noted that his voice was growing rougher.

"Bugger the dishes."

Barely keeping his lips from twitching upwards into a smile, Giles began, "Well, if you'd rather bugger the dishes than–"

He caught a brief glimpse of an exasperated expression on Ethan's face before suddenly he was on his back on the floor with Ethan straddled above him. Wriggling.

Laughing, Giles rested his hands on Ethan's waist. "I get the impression you want something."

Ethan paused. "Don't you? I mean, here, in front of a roaring fire in our new home?" He moved his hips again, more slowly. "Don't you want something to put a cap of perfection on things too?"

"Just being with you makes this perfect," Giles said softly, all traces of teasing banished in favour of more serious emotions.

Ethan stared at Giles for a few moments, his expression somewhat doting, but then it changed, and he sat back on his haunches. "Oh, so you don't need sex then?"

"I never said that." Giles sat up and leant forward, stopping when he was less than an inch from Ethan's mouth. "Always need you," he murmured.

"Prove it." Ethan's tongue slipped from his own mouth to lick Giles' lower lip.

Taking Ethan's hand, Giles pressed it to his now very hard cock. "Proof enough?"

"Well, I'd prefer something more active," Ethan said, freeing his hand and undoing Giles' belt, "but this is always a nice start."

Giles leant back to give Ethan better access. "So me sitting here and contemplating fucking you through the floorboards isn't good enough for you?"

"Well, you do know I prefer active improvisation to careful plotting and planning, dearheart." The trousers undone, Ethan inched back on his knees, pulling them and Giles' boxers from his body.

Giles pulled his jumper off himself. "You might want to take care of that overdressed problem you have then."

Ethan looked up and grinned. "Yes, no nasty fraying magic on these togs, please." He bent and kissed the tip of Giles' cock before unstraddling him and rapidly stripping.

Leaning back on his elbows, Giles watched appreciatively as Ethan's naked body came into view. "All the years I've known you, I don't think I've ever got tired of just watching you move. Especially without clothes."

The compliment very obviously pleased Ethan, who grinned and knelt beside Giles. He ran a sensual hand up and down Giles' body. "Any movement you fancy in particular today?"

"I can think of one or two," Giles replied, sitting up enough to grab Ethan by the back of the neck and pull him down for a passionate kiss. Ethan went with him, half-covering Giles' body and opening his mouth to receive Giles' tongue. His hands moved up to cup Giles' face.

The heat that always lay simmering just under the surface between them burst into full flames as Ethan moved against him, and Giles devoured Ethan's mouth. He knew he would never have enough of Ethan: his feel, his taste, his scent, everything about him.

Moaning hungrily, Ethan fed magic through his hands whilst pressing his erection into Giles' side. "Ripper," he murmured as their lips briefly parted. "Please." With a burst of energy, Giles shifted them, not stopping until Ethan was lying supone in front of the fire with Giles straddling Ethan's hips. Ethan grinned toothily up at him, breathing hard. "Oh yes," he said happily, rubbing his cock up against Giles' arse.

"Utterly shameless, aren't you?" Giles observed, running fingers charged with magic lightly over Ethan's torso.

Shivering in response, Ethan tipped his head back. "What cause is there here for shame? The man I love is... oh. The man I love is sitting above me, looking magnificent and... and teasing me with delicious magic. I don't regard my reactions –oh, Ripper, Christ– as excessive."

God, Ethan was so... "Do you know what seeing you like this does to me?" Giles asked, voice rough with arousal.

Ethan moved his head to look at Giles again, and he was smirking, just a little. "Well actually, yes, I do." He lifted his hands to stroke up Giles' thighs, sparking magic all the way. "Benefits of pattern sight, you see."

Giles caught his breath at the sensation. "Shameless," he repeated, leaning down to taste Ethan's mouth again.

'Do you want to see too?' Ethan sent as they kissed. _'I could join us a little, if you like.'_ He sounded hopeful.

Oh, Giles wanted to; he wanted to very much. They hadn't allowed themselves any type of magical joining since they'd defeated Vaurtain, for fear that once started, they would no longer be able to stop. But here, now, in what was going to be their new home, somehow that fear didn't seem so great. Meeting Ethan's eyes, Giles said simply, "Do it."

Ethan groaned, squeezing Giles' thighs. Giles felt his awareness grow and change. He began to be able to see shadows of patterns and connections, the constellations of nodes and paths that surrounded everything. But that part of the sight did not become clearer, Ethan apparently concentrating just on linking their bodies tonight.

Giles found he could feel Ethan's body and arousal almost as well as his own. He was breathing with Ethan, their hearts beating in time. "Kiss me," Ethan said roughly. "Fuck me."

"God, yes," Giles growled, leaning over and plundering Ethan's mouth roughly.

Oh lord, he could feel Ethan's lips bruising under his own, could feel Ethan's body respond with tightening muscles and increased heart rate, both of which his own body echoed. Ethan pushed up with his hips, his hands moving rapidly over Giles' back.

'Want you,' Giles sent, instinctively moving against Ethan, matching the words. There was no thought in his mind beyond Ethan and wanting to shag him senseless.

Ethan made an incoherent noise and began to squirm under Giles, trying to get his legs out. His need to be filled by Giles was so strong that Giles found it hard to separate it from his own urge to fill and thrust. There was a bit of a muddle as a result, but eventually Giles was between Ethan's legs, and Ethan was whispering, "Please. Please, Ripper, please."

Giles didn't need any more encouragement than that; he thrust into Ethan's body, a stream of magic easing his way as usual. Ethan moaned and thrust up to meet Giles, their movements almost simultaneous. There was nothing that felt more right than this, more so when he could feel what Ethan was feeling as well.

Ethan lifted his legs, and Giles moved his arms until the first were hooked around the second. Then Giles began to thrust in earnest, and Ethan almost wailed with pleasure. Giles bit back a wail of his own as every feeling was mirrored – fucking and being fucked, each sensation as strong as the other until Giles began to lose track of which were his feelings and which were Ethan's.

Somehow he kept moving, his body knowing just what to do even while his pleasure-soaked brain received so much overwhelming information. He felt his muscles tighten, or was that Ethan's? He felt the pleasure take his breath, his vision, consuming all his senses. He felt Ethan come and then himself, feeling also Ethan's response to that. And then he was nothing but feeling, sensation, sparks exploding in the night and not stopping, ongoing, more and more and...

Awareness went away for a while then as Giles finally blacked out. It happened every time they did this linked sex. It was more of a white out, really, he thought groggily as awareness began to return, not an absence of sensation, but so much that it all became overwhelming white noise that nothing else could penetrate.

Eventually, he became aware of a wordless groaning from Ethan, and they were still linked just enough for Giles to work out that Ethan's legs were hurting. He summoned up enough energy to roll to the side, letting Ethan bring his legs down. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't mind, don't care," Ethan muttered, immediately rolling to his side in order to snuggle close to Giles. "Was perfect."

Giles turned his head lazily to look at Ethan and the way the firelight glowed on his skin. Beyond them, the rest of their new flat now lay in soft shadow. "Yeah," he said softly. "It was."

"Everything about this place is perfect," Ethan said, but then wriggled, frowning. "Except this. I'm laying on something prickly."

"Well, move then," Giles told him, amused.

They both sat up, and Ethan lifted from the rug the thing that had been irritating his skin. He stared at it with obvious bemusement.

It was a large, quill-like black feather with a small streak of white near the tip.


	3. Chapter 3

Giles paused for a moment before signing his name with a flourish on the last file ever to cross his desk as Head Watcher.

"Well done, dear," Ethan said from where he was perched on the edge of the desk. He bent down enough to kiss Giles' cheek.

"I think I've signed more papers in the last two weeks than I did all the rest of the time I was in charge," Giles said wryly, leaning back in his chair and letting his gaze roam around the room. It was barer than he was used to seeing it; all of his personal effects had been boxed up the day before and added to the growing pile at Mountbatten. This was his official last day at the office, and by the end of the next fortnight, they would be moving all of those boxes west to their new home and business.

A new start.

Unfortunately, that meant that this week had been taken up with a number of endings, and while he was looking forward to the future, that didn't stop Giles feeling a bit wistful at leaving parts of his old life behind.

Ethan rubbed the side of his leg against Giles'. "We've got a little while before this formal goodbye do of yours. Do you want to take a walk? I'm getting the feeling that hanging around here is making you melancholy." He slipped from the table. "We can steal some files if you like. That way, if withdrawal gets too bad, you can sniff them or add a note or two."

"You," Giles began fondly, reaching out and taking Ethan's hand and pulling him down onto his lap, "are a bad influence."

Cupping Giles' face, Ethan beamed. "Thank you, dearheart. Lovely of you to say that even now." He kissed Giles.

Giles kissed him back with enthusiasm. When they parted, he sighed and admitted, "It is difficult to realise this is all ending today. It's been a large part of my life for a very long time."

"Well, apart from when poor old Frannie's father gave you the sack that time." Ethan stroked fingers through Giles' hair at his temple.

Francesca Travers was being given the best private care money could buy at a top London psychiatric hospital; it was unlikely she'd ever fully recover. Giles frowned a little at the thought. "I was still a Watcher then. Just... freelance."

Ethan nodded. "And now you're you."

That, Giles thought, was the most succinct way of putting where he was after the last decade's journey. "Yes," he said with a small smile. "Now I'm me." He paused and touched Ethan's face. "And you're you."

Ethan nipped at Giles' lips with his own before replying. "Yes, I suppose I am. When did that happen?"

"Five months ago from last Tuesday," Giles joked, deadpan. He kissed Ethan and then added in all seriousness, "It's like in that dream we shared about the costume trunk in the attic. You just had to trust enough to take off the masks."

"Maybe." Ethan gave Giles a soft smile. "Or perhaps I am no longer the person who was hiding behind the masks."

Giles shook his head. "You've always been the person you are now, deep down. Even if it was so deep down you couldn't see it."

"I don't feel the same." Ethan looked down, his eyes unfocusing as if he were looking within. "I feel quite different. Before I was, hmm, running. Always running."

"While I was doing my best to hide," Giles admitted, thinking back on his own past and how much of it he'd spent denying parts of himself because he was frightened of them.

Ethan grinned suddenly. "I ran until you came out of your den to growl at the hounds and chase them off. Then I was able to stop."

Giles smiled, caught by the whimsy of Ethan's metaphor. "Is that what I did?"

The grin faded back into the soft smile. "Well, they've gone, so I think you must have." Ethan kissed Giles again.

"Aside from the two hounds sleeping in the corner over there," Giles said, nodding towards where Gwydion and Skunk were curled up around each other.

"They are friend, not foe."

"And only chase you when you have their food dish."

"They will adore Clarendon Comfrey. London isn't a place for dogs. Not really." Ethan pulled back enough to undo the first button of Giles' waistcoat. They were both dressed in their smartest clothes today for the formal retirement buffet. The clothes were giving the whole day a slight funereal feel however.

"It isn't," Giles agreed, looking over towards the dogs again; Gwydion was nearing his full height now and was quite obviously oversized for their small house on Mountbatten. "Much more leg room for everyone at our new place."

"And rabbits," Ethan reminded. Over in the dog's basket, Skunk raised her head.

"This rabbit thing is becoming something of a fixation," Giles observed dryly.

"Well, certainly you accusing me of that seems to be becoming a habit." Ethan stuck his tongue out.

"Oh yes, very mature." But Giles couldn't hide his smile as he leant in for another kiss, and as their mouths touched, Ethan undid another button of the waistcoat. Giles raised an eyebrow when Ethan pulled back. "Something you want?"

Ethan raised his brows in turn. "Me? No. Nothing." He undid the final button and stroked his hand up Giles' shirtfront.

"So your undressing of me would be...? A nervous twitch?"

"You still look lamentably dressed to me." Ethan undid the shirt button just below the knot of Giles' tie.

"Yes, I generally am at the office." It was taking Giles a great deal of effort not to give in and smile. Ethan undid another button and then bent to lick at Giles' chest through the gap he'd made; a slight tingle of magic was left as his tongue passed over Giles' skin. Giles shifted in his chair at that sensuous touch. "I really don't know, Ethan, if this is something that we..."

"Shh," Ethan said. "We're upholding tradition here." He undid another button and tugged at one side of the shirt, freeing it enough to reach Giles' nipple with his tongue.

"Still, I don't think..." Giles began dubiously, but lost his train of thought under Ethan's caress.

After another couple of buttons, Ethan was kissing and then nibbling gently at the nipple, just scraping the edge of his teeth around it. There was a trace of magic in every contact. He was pretty much curled up in Giles' lap in order to reach, but that didn't seem to be bothering him; Giles' luxury executive chair prevented him from falling. "I think you should take me," Ethan said between nibbles, "over your desk to celebrate our last opportunity for doing that... or maybe I should take you."

Giles' brain obligingly provided images to go with Ethan's words, and he closed his eyes to try to keep control. "I, uh... I don't think that would be..." He broke off with a groan as Ethan's clever fingers found their way to the front of his trousers.

"Come on, husband," Ethan urged, the heel of his hand making it very difficult for Giles to think at all. "You know no one dares enter this room without a whole Chinese tea ceremony's worth of knocking first. We're safe, and this landmark day deserves to be noticed."

"I'm not going to be able to say no, am I?" Giles asked wryly.

"Am I that irresistible?" Ethan grinned, slipping from Giles' lap. "Good!" He held out his hand. "Think about the memory I'm now going to give you of this place. It will be a much better last memory than signing papers, I promise."

Giles was aware he'd already made up his mind before he admitted it aloud. "I suppose I should give you a chance to keep that promise," he said, reaching out and taking Ethan's outstretched hand. Ethan pulled him up and then into an embrace, kissing him slowly but passionately.

Ethan taking control like this was still rather novel, although becoming less so as time went on. Giles was fairly certain, however, that he'd always find it incredibly arousing, just as he did now. The kiss grew steadily harder, more possessive, Ethan's hands holding Giles on the back of his neck and on his arse. Giles' mouth was invaded by a thrusting tongue while hard fingers pressed into his buttocks.

Then suddenly, Ethan drew back. He was breathing heavily and gave Giles a predatory look. "Oh, you are going to remember this," he said, taking hold of Giles' hips and turning him around to face the desk.

"I'm not finding that difficult to believe," Giles replied, his voice rough with arousal. He moved as Ethan guided him, trying to relax tense muscles. This, giving in and letting Ethan have control, was getting easier for him as time went on as well, but it still was something he had to consciously work at.

He felt Ethan close behind him; a hardness pressing into his arse and heavy breath at his ear as Ethan's hands reached around to unclip Giles' braces and unfasten his trousers. As they fell down, hands sparking with magic pushed under the waistband of Giles' boxers.

Giles groaned and moved into the touch without thought, wanting more.

The wonderful hands wrapped around him for a few seconds, stroking and tugging gently, but then they were gone, and Giles' boxers were suddenly down around his knees. "You really should step out of all these impedimenta, dear," Ethan said, sounding both amused and aroused. "We don't want anything resisting access, do we?"

"Or to get ripped or stained," Giles murmured, imagining the reactions if he showed up to his formal goodbye obviously rumpled and... ripped or stained.

Ethan crouched, helping Giles out of the fallen clothes. While he was down there, he started stroking his hands up Giles' thighs, kissing the back of them, and after lifting the shirt tails, licking up to Giles' buttocks. "Had I been interested in fair turn around, this smart dress suit of yours would be nothing but frayed rags by now."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Giles admitted, turning his head to look down at Ethan. "Although considering you actually picked out this suit, I was trusting to your affection for fine clothing."

Ethan grinned up at Giles before sliding a hand up his back and pushing. "Bend over, if you'd please."

Giles complied with the request, remarking, "Almost sounds like something said to naughty school boys when they visit the headmaster's office."

"Have you been naughty then?" Giles felt Ethan push his shirt up further. "Pray, do confess." Hands gripped his hips while a hard wet tongue licked just a little between his buttocks.

Giles chuckled, the sound emerging a little breathless. "First thing I learnt at school, never admit to anything for which they don't have proof."

"Oh, a sound strategy," Ethan said, before using his hands to part Giles' arse cheeks. "But then, they didn't have my persuasion techniques, I imagine." Giles shuddered almost violently as Ethan's face pressed to him and a tongue dripping magic was dragged over his most sensitive skin.

"Oh God..." he all but squeaked, his hands gripping the edges of the desk in a white knuckled grip. One thing that had never changed from the moment they'd met – no one could drive Giles crazy faster than Ethan could. It was just the methods that varied.

Ethan chuckled, the sound blowing soft puffs of air against Giles' flesh. Then the tongue started again, swirling and pressing, dragging and gently poking. It was maddening, arousing, wonderful... and not nearly enough. Giles groaned and pushed his hips back, spreading his legs wider in a mute demand for more.

Ethan pulled back enough to ask, "Want something, dearest?" before going back to work.

"For you to get on with it?" Giles gasped out in reply, the words coming out as more of a question than a statement. The only answer he got to that was Ethan's tongue poked inside him and a hand curling round to wrap tightly around his cock. Both fed him magic.

Giles made a sound halfway between a groan and a strangled shout. "Bloody hell, Ethan..." There was another chuckle pressed against his skin.

Ethan kept this torture up for a few breathless, maddening minutes, in which, Giles realised, he stood no chance of being allowed to come. He'd begun to be able to recognise now when Ethan was making fast and loose with his patterns.

Just as Giles felt certain he could no longer hold back the yell that would bring God knows who running into the room, Ethan let go and pulled back. "There. That was a nice appetiser. Now for the main course."

"I'm almost afraid to ask." Giles tried for a dry tone, but his voice was too rough and breathless for him to be able to pull that off.

He felt Ethan stand behind him, Ethan's hands gentling Giles a little, sliding up inside Giles' shirt and down his flanks. "You seem a little shaky, dear. Do try to relax." Then the hands were withdrawn, and there was the easily identifiable noise of Ethan's trousers being undone.

Relax? Giles snorted at the thought. Not when his entire nervous system was thrumming in anticipation of what Ethan was about to do as much as from what Ethan had already done.

One hand grabbed his hip and a hardness intruded between his buttocks, pressing against him. "Want this?" Ethan asked, his voice low. "I do."

A shiver went through Giles at the question. "You know I do." He felt a surge of Ethan's magic enter him, followed by the stretch of Ethan's cock. "Oh God..." Giles groaned at the sensation.

"Ripper, Christ," Ethan muttered, and then immediately began to thrust, gripping Giles' hips tightly.

Giles' world instantly narrowed down to Ethan and what they were doing, and he lost himself in it. He was hyperaware of everything about Ethan: the way his breath was catching as he moved, the way his fingers tightened on Giles' hips with every thrust, even the warmth of his body pressed against him.

After a while, Ethan paused, buried deep inside Giles. He moved his hands roughly over Giles' body. "No more offices for you, my husband. No more futile pushing of paper. You're better than this, you are. You're so much bloody better." He adjusted his angle slightly and began to move again, shoving almost viciously into Giles.

Giles wanted to argue the point –the work he'd done from this office had been vital– but at the moment he was fairly convinced he wouldn't be able to string two coherent words together. Not with Ethan fucking him so hard and fast that he found himself whimpering from the heady pleasure.

"God, Ripper, I love being inside of you." There was a pained wonder in Ethan's voice, but Giles didn't have time to appreciate it before a hand was sliding around in front of him and wrapping around his cock once more.

Any remaining thoughts Giles might have had vanished in that second as he felt Ethan relax the tight hold he'd kept on Giles' pattern. At the same time, Ethan sparked magic through the fingers wrapped around Giles' cock. White-hot pleasure obliterated everything, and Giles came with his lover's name on his lips.

After a little while, Giles was vaguely aware of Ethan moving back and a feeling of sudden emptiness inside him. Then hands were on him, pulling him back and then down. To Giles' great surprise, he found himself sitting on Ethan's lap in his own office chair.

Giles blinked at this role reversal and then started chuckling. It was odd, but also oddly right somehow.

Ethan's smug smile disintegrated into giggles. "You're bloody heavy, you know, dearheart," he said when he could. "I can't imagine why you seem to like me sitting on you so much."

"I think I have a couple of stone on you," Giles pointed out, still chuckling himself. "Do you want me to get up?"

"No," Ethan said immediately, clasping Giles closely to him. "Stay." Giles, who was still feeling quite boneless, was quite happy to comply. Ethan played a hand lightly over Giles' leg. "That really was rather nice, dearheart. Thank you for letting me have my wicked way with you."

"You were very persuasive."

Ethan was quiet for a while although his hand kept slowly stroking. Then he laughed. "So how come I never knew about this naughty boy and headmaster kink then?"

Giles shrugged. "I guess it just never came up. Although," he continued thoughtfully, "it's not like the dynamic hasn't been present in our sexlife before. But usually, you are the one to take on the persona of the naughty boy."

Ethan giggled again. "Well, that is more me, don't you think? So it is a kink then? I was making an apparently astute guess. Oh Rupert, my dear. The things I could do with this." He sounded decidedly evil.

Oh dear. "Just be aware that turnabout is fair play," Giles finally warned, knowing that it wouldn't dampen Ethan's enthusiasm at all.

"Well, exactly." Ethan grinned hugely. "And just think of all the fair turnabout I've built up in our times together." He nuzzled against Giles' ear and whispered, "Your poor, sore behind..."

Which for some reason sent Giles off into laughter again.

***

Ethan surreptitiously dropped a vol-au-vent into Skunk's open mouth and grinned as she gulped it down. She seemed to be enjoying them a lot more than he was.

He brushed a fleck of food from his Armani trousers. He'd probably eaten too much, actually, but it wasn't as if there were many other ways of occupying himself during this official goodbye do of Rupert's. It was fitting though that the Council were seeing Rupert off in the same suffocating tradition in which they'd wanted him to live.

Well, no more. And however much he'd changed, Ethan couldn't help a small sly smile every time he thought of that. He'd won. It had taken him a few decades, for sure, but the Council had lost, and Ethan had won. Rupert was his, his forever. God, that felt good. Good with all the depth and near on religious meaning he could give to the word.

Dull grey men and women milled about talking quietly in groups. Ethan looked around them with amused disbelief – nobody has died, you lifeless sods. Wake up! But this was good too, the contrast it gave would be salutary for Rupert, should he start to doubt his decision. Life was away from here where they could breathe, where they could be together. Life was where there was colour and growing things, and where people dared raise their voice in mirth without having a whole boardroom full of librarian types instantly frowning at them.

Ethan sensed someone looking at him and quickly located Pamela across the room. She nodded at him, and he smiled back. All right, time to drag his no doubt slightly down-in-the-mouth husband out of this place for the last time.

Without looking around for Rupert first, Ethan mooched straight to his side. His awareness of Rupert had been close to instinctive since the day that they'd joined. He knew where Rupert was without thinking and almost as much about Rupert's body as he knew about his own without looking at deep patterns. He knew when Rupert was tired or hungry, tense or horny.

Right now, he seemed weary. Ethan slipped his hand into Rupert's, and ignoring the people Rupert had been in conversation with, he said, "Time to go home. Andy and Teddy have to say bye-bye." Gwyddion, who'd been hunkered down at Rupert's feet, immediately stood and looked towards the door.

Rupert smiled at Ethan then turned back to the conversation he'd been having. "It seems I'm being dragged off," he said wryly.

The man he was talking to –Higgins, Ethan remembered, one of Rupert's staunchest allies on the Council– smiled. "Can't say we won't miss you, old boy. You've done more to reorganise the Watchers than anyone, but if anybody deserves to enjoy their retirement..." He held out a hand to Rupert, who took it in a firm handshake. "Don't worry about us here; we'll keep on the path you set us upon."

Ethan tugged Rupert's other hand while smiling politely at Higgins. Rupert didn't move. "I'm sure you will," Rupert replied. "I wouldn't be able to leave if I didn't think the Council was in good hands."

Ethan began to think cheerfully about playing with the patterns of Rupert's bladder. "Come along, dear. I want to get to the shops before they close." It was possible he wasn't being very patient, but then, better not give the old bugger a chance to delay and maybe begin questioning his decision.

Higgins grinned at them both and waved them off. "Go on. Make your escape while you can."

Ethan turned and began to walk away, pulling hard on Rupert's hand. "Trot, trot, dearheart."

Rupert laughed as he let Ethan pull him off. "You're certainly in a hurry."

"I want to get you away from this place before it finds a way to get its claws back into you." Ethan flashed a strained smile at Rupert. "We're nearly at the door. No speaking to anyone now."

"It's a bit undignified to be fleeing from a party in my honour as if it were an illustri demon horde." Rupert slowed down.

Bugger. A tall female Watcher was approaching. Oh hell, and a couple of blokes from the other side. They would never get out at this rate. In desperation, Ethan sent, _'Please Rupert? Come now? I can't breathe in here.'_

 _'We are leaving,'_ Rupert pointed out, gesturing at the progress they'd made toward the door.

 _'Now!'_   Ethan didn't have to exaggerate the urgency in his mental tone as the woman reached them.

"Ah, Mr Giles. Leaving already? I'd rather hoped that we–"

"I'm afraid we're off now," Rupert replied smoothly. "If it's anything Council-related, I suggest you talk to Chris Higgins; I'm not in charge any longer." As he spoke, he kept them moving towards the door.

Yes, better. Thank God. Ethan knew it had to be psychosomatic, but he really was feeling just a little light-headed. Anyway, if he looked slightly ill that would help Rupert leave early without appearing rude. He leant just a little on Rupert as Rupert got them both through the door and into the corridor beyond.

Once they were away from the room, Rupert paused and looked at Ethan. "Why the rush to leave anyway? I know it wasn't the most exciting of parties, but–"

"Well, I really do need to get to the shops," Ethan said weakly. "And I really do need to get out of here too."

"It's not as if I'm going to change my mind, you realise," Rupert said a bit more gently.

"The longer we stay here, the more chance there is they'll find something that just has to have you to sort it." Ethan tried to get them moving again.

"Ethan." Rupert stilled both of them and met Ethan's gaze. "It doesn't matter what they find. I'm not changing my mind."

Ethan smiled rather fixedly as Pamela appeared behind Rupert, saw them, gave a pained grin, and backed off on tiptoe. "Shops, dearheart? Please?"

"What do we need to go to the shops for?" Rupert asked, but obligingly fell back into step with Ethan as they made their way down the hallway.

"I'm cooking tonight," Ethan claimed blithely. "Special celebration meal."

"So we'll be stopping by the local fire station and putting them on standby as well then?"

"Bad boys get no delicious suppers," Ethan promised, relieved as they neared the door that led to the car park. "Although I can think of other things they might get instead."

"Why don't we eat out tonight to celebrate?" Rupert suggested. "Someplace where you can scandalise the other patrons?"

Oh for... "You're hurting my feelings now, Rupert," Ethan said as he pushed open the heavy door to the outside world.

Rupert shrugged. "It's not that I'm against your forays into cooking really. I just rather had the idea of us going out and being decadent tonight." He paused in the doorway and looked back. "So that I don't think about leaving so much." He shook his head and started walking again before Ethan could prod him. "I'd have suggested taking everybody out with us if they weren't all either out of the country or otherwise occupied."

"Yes, this really is badly timed, all in all," Ethan said, hoping he wasn't speaking the truth. "All right, if you wish to reject my cooking, we can go out. But we still need to go to the shops at least briefly."

"All right," Rupert agreed easily enough.

Thanks be for small mercies. "I'll drive," Ethan said, holding his hands out for the keys. Just to make sure that there would be no further detours from plan.

Again Rupert easily agreed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys before handing them to Ethan without argument. In fact, he seemed on the brink of sinking into one of those thoughtful silences that hardly ever boded well for his mood. Damn. Oh well, Ethan would get them moving, at least.

After the dogs were fastened into the back, the humans into the front, Ethan started the car. "Any last words?" he asked, pausing before driving off.

Rupert looked out through the windshield at the building for a long moment then shook his head. "I think everything that's needed to be said has been said."

Ethan drove out into the traffic, deciding to leave Rupert with his thoughts for a little while. A glance to the backseat via the mirror showed Giddy looking rather doleful too. Oh dear. Well, maybe a little dismal was just what was needed currently, as preparation.

"It's hard to believe I'm done with it," Rupert commented after a few minutes. "It's all been so... quiet. Somehow I always pictured my leaving the Watchers as something a bit more..."

"I don't know," Ethan said, but he said it gently as he did sympathise. "It seemed just what I would expect from a gathering of Watchers."

"That's part of it. I guess I always pictured less old school Watcher and more... Sunnydale alumnae insanity." Rupert smiled slightly. "Have I ever told you about the send-off they gave me the first time I left?"

"Left Sunnydale? No. Do tell."

"I tried to sneak away unnoticed. Just left a note and headed for the airport. But they showed up there, complete with large sign with balloons and small trinkets, some truly disgusting mass-produced fruit pies, and a little monster finger puppet." Rupert smiled again. "I still have the puppet somewhere."

Ethan found he could imagine it very well. "There is something to be said for American sentimentality, is there not?"

"Indeed. Of course, Willow was raising the dead before my plane had even landed at Heathrow, but..."

Ah yes, Willow. "It's a shame she had to go back to America before we had more time to talk. I found it hard to recognise that scared little ghost I first met in that very powerful witch who helped us boot bear-arse to kingdom come."

"She's certainly grown into a confident and talented young woman," Rupert agreed. "They all have changed and grown so much from when I first met them."

"Your influence has had a lot to do with that, I'm sure." Ethan reached out briefly to pat Rupert's leg. "Your legacy is impressive."

Rupert smiled, obviously pleased at the pronouncement even as he ducked his head. "They changed me just as much," he admitted.

"I hope they all visit the Fox and Badger frequently," Ethan said thoughtfully, indicating to turn into the small carpark by the Tesco Express. "Things are rather quiet without any of them about currently, don't you think?"

"I suppose it's something we'll have to get used to. I'm not sure I ever did though when I first came back to England."

Ethan didn't answer immediately as he was psyching out a contender for the one remaining parking space using his best psychopathic smile, the one that communicated a willingness to destroy car and limb to get what he wanted and probably in interesting and spectacularly sadistic ways too. He won the space, of course.

"They will visit, won't they?" he asked as he put the handbrake on and stopped the engine.

"I'm sure they will," Rupert said, undoing his seatbelt. "When they can find the time. So as long as the schedule remains apocalypse-light..."

Ethan gave Rupert an appraising look. "That was not exactly dripping with optimism, dear."

Rupert smiled. "As Buffy was often fond of pointing out back when she was in high school, apocalypses tend to interfere with one's social life."

"Our friends will come," Ethan said firmly, getting out of the car. He waited until Rupert was also out before adding, "Or at least they'll try to. I'm expecting many calls along the line of 'help, we're lost in the wilds of some place called glue-chester-shy-er'."

That pulled a chuckle out of Rupert. "It wouldn't surprise me at all. Xander is still complaining about everyone driving on the wrong side of the road. Although I think it's more now because it's expected of him than any lingering confusion."

They opened the back doors long enough to reassure their dogs that they'd be back soon and then locked up and headed to the shop. Ethan grabbed a trolley and grinned at Rupert.

"We had to leave to get to the shops before they closed?" Rupert made a show of looking around. "And that would be this shop that is open 24 hours...?"

"Ah, but thanks to your cruel and unreasonable lack of faith, I'm not cooking anymore," Ethan pointed out, being ready for the objection. "Therefore I no longer need to get to the specialist Thai shop." He started adding things to the trolley more or less at random. It was the shopping method he preferred. It was entirely coincidental that it was also the shopping method that drove Rupert most crazy.

Watching the assortment of items accumulating in the trolley, Rupert said exasperatedly, "If we needed to go shopping, that would imply that we're after specific items."

"I don't see why," Ethan said cheerfully, trying to decide between a packet of plain couscous and a box flavoured with lemongrass and lime. "I'm just refreshing the paint palette here. The cupboards were looking rather bare. Good cooking is, I'm convinced, the art of the happy coincidence. This is me stacking the odds."

"We are packing up to move in a couple of weeks," Rupert reminded him. "Cupboards looking rather bare is probably what we're aiming for. Less to pack that way."

Ethan waved his hand dismissively after dropping both kinds of couscous into the trolley. "Oh, there'll be plenty of room in the van."

Rupert reached in and pulled out one of the boxes and put it back on the shelf. "That still is more to pack and unpack."

"Isn't that Harabald over there?" Ethan asked, staring with a slight frown towards the far end of the aisle... and when Rupert looked, as he was only human, after all, Ethan slipped the box back into the trolley, which he wheeled forward. "Come along now. Let's get this done."

"Someone is certainly trying for the part of naughty school boy," Rupert observed dryly.

Ethan's mobile phone chose that moment to play 'Hit Me Baby One More Time'. He giggled as he unhooked it from his belt to view the text message the noise announced. "I knew I chose that ringtone for a reason."

"I'll restrain myself from making a comment on that."

Ethan read the message and quickly cleared it from the screen. "Ah, apparently I've won all sorts of wondrous goodies which I'll find out about if I immediately call this ultra-premium number." He returned the phone to his belt. "Ah well." He looked up to find Rupert staring at him speculatively. Oops. Ethan was making a bit of a pig's ear of this; he could tell. He needed a solid distraction and now. He let his face fall into a pensive frown. "Rupert?"

"Yes?" Oh yes. That was definitely a suspicious look.

"You have... I mean, you mentioned apocalypses. What are you going to do the next time one comes around?" It was worryingly easy to 'fake' this insecurity.

Rupert gave an elegant shrug. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. If an apocalypse shows up on our doorstep... Well, I doubt either of us would be able to ignore it," he said with painful honesty. He moved closer and brushed a hand against Ethan's arm. "But I'm not going to be seeking them out."

Ethan looked down.

"I sincerely doubt many apocalypses are going to find their way to our doorstep in Clarendon Comfrey," Rupert continued, obviously trying to lighten the conversation. "They're more likely to get lost in the middle of 'glue-chester-shy-er'."

That made Ethan chuckle in spite of himself. He looked up and gave Rupert a rueful grin. "I've rather gone off shopping now. Can we just pay and go?"

"Of course." Rupert waited a few beats before adding, "And we can put that extra box of couscous back on the way."

"You can put it all back if you like," Ethan said, making sure there was just a hint of glum in his voice.

"Far be it for me to curtail your hobbies. Just the one box will be sufficient."

A little later, they were back out at the car, putting their bags in the boot. Ethan gave Skunk a hug for being good before getting back into the driver's seat. "It's not that I don't trust you, you know," he said, before starting up the engine. "It's just that I know I don't deserve this. So every once in a while I find I'm ducking, imagining the other shoe is on its way."

Rupert just looked at him for a minute. "Ethan, you do remember the part where we pretty much saved the world? Don't you think that means you deserve some happiness?"

"In a world as prone to apocalypse as this one, that just makes me one of a crowd." Ethan snorted softly and let out the handbrake, heading back to the road.

"I see I still have my work cut out for me," Rupert murmured.

Well, that distraction had certainly worked. The only problem was that now Ethan really was feeling a little, well, anxious maybe. "Let's change the subject," he announced. "Have you set an opening date yet?"

"Can't very well do that without consulting you," Rupert pointed out, going with the topic change easily. "Besides, that will depend on how long it takes to refurbish and settle in."

"I'm looking forward to receiving the brewery reps."

"Do try to remember we need to foster an ongoing relationship with them."

"Oh, absolutely. I was thinking of insisting on a tour of premises for each one we're interested in." Ethan shot a grin at Rupert.

"Oh dear."

"Oh, my dear, you are worrying over nothing." Ethan patted Rupert's leg. "You see, I _can_ organise a piss up in a brewery. You'll see."

The talking of plans for the pub occupied the rest of the drive back and also served to lighten both their moods somewhat; it seemed difficult to stay down when thinking about how bright their future was.

Ethan parked the car in their usual spot, thanking, not for the first time, his foresight back in pre-pattern magic days in enchanting this spot. He hoped the new residents –Megan and Xander in fact, with their respective partners when available– would appreciate the always available parking space. It was particularly obvious today, considering how packed their street was. Ethan could only hope Rupert didn't look too closely at any of the cars.

"Come on, dearheart," he said, smiling at Rupert to keep his attention on him. "Let's have a cuppa while we plan where to go eat." Ethan patted Rupert's leg and then got out of the car to start the process of releasing the dogs. Gwydion seemed uncharacteristically restless now they were stopped, his sharp-muzzled face pointing eagerly at their front door.

"Someone seems happy to be home," Rupert commented as he moved around to the boot to get the groceries they'd bought.

"Hmm," Ethan said, trying to sound thoughtful. "Maybe Megan's back early from her endurance training course."

"That would be a pleasant surprise." Rupert sounded a bit wistful. Rupert had, Ethan thought, really been feeling the lack of, well, everyone bar Ethan himself this last week. Poor old sod.

Once the dogs were on the pavement and the boot shut, Ethan beeped the car locked, and they headed for the door. After opening it, Ethan let the dogs and Rupert go in front of him into the cramped, dark lobby. The adjourning door to the living room was shut, of course, even though they had left it open that morning. "Go through, dear," Ethan said from the street. "No room for me in here until you do."

Shifting the shopping bags to one hand, Rupert got the door to the living room open and stepped through.

Ethan watched Rupert stop dead in his tracks, the dogs running past his legs and barking excitedly. Rupert paid them no attention whatsoever, being far too amusingly gobsmacked by, presumably, the large and sparkly banner hung high up far wall proclaiming, 'Happy Retirement, Giles!' Or just possibly it was the fact that their small front room was packed to brimming with people that was throwing him.

No, not just people, friends. Friends who weren't even meant to be in this country in certain cases; Ethan grinned over Rupert's shoulder at Buffy and Dawn, Xander and Willow. Megan and Kat were there too, and Faith, even Madiha, who was to all accounts doing very well in her adjustment. There were others too, off in the study. Coming out of the kitchen were Matthew, and ah yes, Pamela. Ethan winked at his fellow conspirator.

Rupert was staring at them all with his mouth slightly open. Ethan found he was regretting the lack of a camera to hand. Xander stepped forward with a grin and a large bottle of the champagne they'd decided upon. "Surprise?"

In spite of his obvious shock, Rupert managed to find his voice. "Well, that explains why no one made it to the get-together this afternoon," he said dryly.

Pamela coughed politely at that. "Shop well, did you, sir?" and everyone chuckled.

Ethan took the bags from Rupert's hands so that Xander could pass him the magnum. There was a little condensation on the bottle as if just taken from the fridge. "It got itself a little shook up," Xander said. "Careful now, ex-boss man."

Dawn stepped forward, carrying a tray of the champagne flutes they'd purchased specially for this. She pointedly stood away from where the bottle pointed, however. "Happy no-more-work day." She beamed at Rupert.

Rupert smiled back. "At least no one thought to christen anything with this," he said as he carefully set about opening the bottle.

"Nah," Dawn said in mock-seriousness. "We figured you'd been hit on the head enough for one lifetime."

Ethan slipped an arm around Rupert's waist. "Want me to pop your cork?" he asked with one of his best innocent smiles.

"Maybe later," Rupert said with a straight face. "But you can help open the champagne now if you'd like."

Chuckling, Ethan said, "Point it away from the light fittings, dearheart. And may I just say, revenge is sweet, and you're not the only one who can employ Pamela in covert non-Council business."

"All this after-hours work will have to stop, dear girl," Matthew said, good-naturedly, "once we're married." He put a possessive arm around Pamela, who blushed.

The cork finally came loose with a distinct pop, but Rupert managed to keep hold of it so nothing breakable was put in danger. Champagne bubbled out slightly, dripping to the floor. "Have you two set a date yet?"

"We were thinking a Christmas wedding, old boy," Matthew said, beaming with obvious pride. "Invite everyone up for a bit of a holiday, lots of partying, maybe a bit of shoo–" He paused and looked uneasily at Ethan. "Now foxes eat game birds, so I'm not going to have any trouble with you about some seasonal shooting, am I?"

"Define 'trouble'," Ethan said, with a deliberately blank smile.

"Shouldn't have a problem if it's geese at least," Buffy put in, grinning at Ethan. "Ethan's got some kind of grudge against them."

Matthew frowned. "Well, I was thinking more of a few grouse, a partridge or two..." he trailed off.

Rupert was just holding the opened champagne and doing nothing useful with it as he continued to look around the room, an endearingly perplexed expression on his face. Ethan took pity and removed the bottle from his hands. He gestured with his head at their Slayers, and Megan and Kat came forward. They took an arm each of Rupert's.

"Come on," Kat said, "Sit down where we can 'pay court' like we're supposed to."

Looking entirely bemused, Rupert let the girls lead him to the sofa. "Next you'll be telling me there's a paper crown I have to wear."

"I vetoed the party hats," Buffy told him. "Have to look out for my Watcher's dignity, after all. Anyway, I look incredibly silly in them."

"And we have the pictures to prove it," Dawn put in, winning a sharp look from her sister.

Ethan filled a couple of champagne flutes before handing the bottle back to Xander. He wandered over to Rupert and pressed one of the glasses into his hand. Dawn and Madiha were passing around the others as Xander poured. Ethan perched himself on the arm of the sofa beside Rupert. "I hope you didn't eat too much of that dull Council food, dear."

"I didn't have much chance, what with someone dragging me out to go do some essential couscous shopping," Rupert replied with an arched eyebrow.

"Vital, that was." Ethan winked and raised his own glass. "Someone make a toast?"

Rupert raised his glass and looked around the room, his gaze thoughtful and lingering. "To family and friends," he finally said with a small smile that clearly, to Ethan at least, betrayed the emotion behind the words.

Ethan echoed the words as did everyone else, raising their glasses in turn. Ethan clinked his against Rupert's and met his eyes before sending, _'Happy beginnings, husband-mine.'_


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh, be careful with that!" Ethan said. Giles watched him scurry over to Buffy, who had just lifted from the wall the large photo display that the Scoobies had given them both for Christmas. "This needs tissue and boards, and oh yes, innumerable layers of bubble-wrap."

"We did manage to get it here without breaking it," Buffy pointed out.

Ethan was wearing his mulish look, which always rather worried Giles. "Nonetheless, perhaps you girls ought to let me take care of this one." He tried to take it from her hands.

Buffy moved it out of his reach. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say it looked like you still didn't trust me." It was said with a glint of humour in her eye so Giles knew she wasn't serious.

Ethan... fidgeted. He let his hands drop, but watched the picture with an expression of barely controlled fluster as Buffy handed it to Megan, and they began to wrap it. "It means... well, something," he said tensely.

Megan gave him a knowing look. "We'll make sure it's safe and secure. Promise."

"Ethan, why don't you help me wrap things over here?" Giles said, from where he was working on packing all the knick-knacks and books that had been on the various shelves in the living room.

"After I oversee th–" Ethan stopped. Buffy was giving him one of her 'I mean business' looks. "Right. Helping you over there then." He backed off from Buffy, giving her a large but rather fixed smile.

Giles gave his Slayer a more natural smile then handed a fertility idol to Ethan to wrap. _'They'll take care with it, love. They know how much it means.'_

 _'This could all be done anytime now as far as I'm concerned. I can't say I'm enjoying this.'_ Ethan was indeed looking pouty. He put the idol down on some bubble-wrap and crossed his arms.

 _'It has to be done,'_ Giles replied, doing his best to be patient. Ethan's life mostly on the move had ensured that he had no experience with the work involved in moving households. _'That is, if you actually want our things with us at our new home._ ' He looked down at the idol then back up at Ethan. _'That isn't going to wrap itself.'_

The sulky look only intensified, although Ethan did start wrapping. _'It's not the... I just want it all done and us in our pub. This is the first place since our grotty old bedsit that I've ever...'_

 _'That's ever been home?'_ Giles finished, as he picked up a ceremonial crystal dagger and wrapped it himself.

Ethan nodded, fumbling with the tape dispenser and frowning. _'It's not that I don't want to move. You know I do.'_

_'You just don't want to give up this place to do it.'_

Ethan gave Giles a sheepish smile, which was a lot nicer to see than the pout. He handed Giles the wrapped idol to add to the crate. "Next?"

With a faint smile, Giles picked up the crystal matrix that now contained Vaurtain; it had been sitting on the mantle since they'd got back from that final battle. _'I suppose we ought to see about putting this in the vault instead, but I'd feel better if we could keep an eye on it,'_ he sent as he handed it over to Ethan.

 _'It should be with us,'_ Ethan agreed, beginning to fold tissue over it, although really they both knew that protection was unnecessary. The matrix couldn't be smashed or broken. _'We're the only ones with a hope in hell of protecting it from the types who might want to pinch it.'_

 _'Not that they'd ultimately be able to do much with it, not without a Key to open it. But even just as a symbol it could cause more than its share of trouble.'_ Giles paused, watching as Ethan began to wrap it in the bubble-wrap. _'Besides, I rather like the way it looks on the mantelpiece.'_

Ethan chuckled. "It does have a certain je ne sais quois," he said aloud.

"Beats mounting demon heads on the wall," Giles agreed. At the questioning looks he got from everyone in the room for that comment, he explained, "My great uncle Bernard was a bit... eccentric."

"Now, there's a new hobby for you girls to consider," Ethan said, laughing. "Demonic taxidermy. No nasty looking corpse goes unutilised. You could set up one of those road-side attractions America seems so fond of – World's Largest Diabolic Exhibit, entrance fifty cents."

Through the doorway, Giles saw Dawn look up from where she was packing up kitchen stuff and wrinkle her nose. "Eww," she said succinctly.

"But think of the educational value of such an exhibit," Ethan persisted. "Might piss off a few demonic relatives, mind you, when they discovered little Joey packed to the gunnels with sand and posing with an axe in his tentacles next to a Gromloch beast. But you should look at such reactions merely as an opportunity to expand your collection."

"And then someone comes along and reanimates them all," Buffy said, "and it's the wax museum all over again. I prefer to have to kill a demon only once. Repeat performances get old."

"Oh, there's something to be said for the odd encore of quality, surely." Ethan winked at Giles as he crouched to begin moving piles of books into a fresh crate.

"Which category demon-killing doesn't generally fall into," Buffy replied smoothly. She held up her hand. "And no, please do not give me examples of what does fall into the category of 'encores of quality'. Some knowledge is just not meant for Buffys."

Giles smiled to himself as he watched the interaction, relishing how well Ethan truly fitted in now, in Giles' life and with his friends, even with Buffy.

There was a loud bang from upstairs... where Xander and Kat were. "Encore," Ethan murmured as if to himself, but it was still loud enough to make Megan giggle apparently.

"Perhaps we should send someone upstairs to make sure they haven't broken anything in their 'encore'," Giles suggested, not quite managing to keep a straight face.

"So not volunteering," Dawn said. "Bad enough the things I'm finding in these cupboards. Things that no way belong in a kitchen."

Buffy looked up sharply, and Ethan visibly winced. Giles looked at him. _'I wasn't aware we had anything incriminating in the kitchen,'_ he sent.

 _'You're forgetting that day Nana arrived unexpectedly to say goodbye, aren't you, dearheart?'_ Ethan made his way into the kitchen, presumably to remove evidence from young eyes. _'I had to put the leather paraphernalia somewhere...'_

_'Oh dear lord. Perhaps Dawn could be better put to use out here helping me with the books? Or is there something hidden on the back of the shelves I need to know about?'_

_'God knows. There could be anything anywhere, all things considered. At least we don't need lube anymore, eh? As there wouldn't be a room without a ready supply.'_ Ethan began to speak aloud to Dawn. "I'll just take that, shall I? And that. Hmm, and that. And you'll just be pretending you never saw them, won't you, sweetheart?"

"Better take this too," Dawn said, holding up something small and black; Giles didn't try too hard to focus upon it. "In that case."

"Giles..." Buffy said, a hard question in her tone.

"Yes, Buffy?" Giles replied playing innocent for all he was worth.

Then she grinned. "I'm thinking this might be the best time to tell you all about my new boyfriend."

Giles frowned; that sort of grin from Buffy rarely boded well, especially when coupled with the word 'boyfriend'. "He's not a vampire, is he?"

"Oh no." She gave Giles one of those big bright grins that he knew all too well were an attempt to hoodwink him. "Been there, done that. Twice. No more vamps for this girl!"

Dawn giggled, which didn't exactly put Giles' mind at ease. "Not working for any shadowy government agency is he?" he asked.

"Hmm," Buffy said as if pretending to think. "Nope. Self-employed. You'd like him – he's Italian!"

Knowing there was more to this than she was telling, Giles pulled out the big guns. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Buffy. He had found that an uncompromising silent stare often got results where active questioning did not.

"He wears Armani?" Buffy said hopefully.

Ethan reappeared in the main room. "Buffy's dating the Godfather." He sounded very amused.

"Getting warmer," Dawn called out. Giles added an artful touch of a frown to his expression and kept staring.

Buffy looked down and mumbled, "They call him 'the Immortal'."

"You're kidding." Ethan sounded genuinely surprised. "Surely not."

"Ethan?" Giles asked in a 'please enlighten the rest of the class' sort of way.

"He's a one-man Illuminati," Ethan said, staring at Buffy. "He's been around a long time, back to ancient Egypt some rumours would have it, and he has his fingers in every pie worth getting them sticky for. He employed me once. Never again. Buffy, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Buffy folded her arms and looked stubborn. "He's on the good guys' side."

It took an effort, but Giles refrained from pointing out that he'd heard that before. Instead, he observed mildly, "You do have a thing for older men, don't you?"

"Eww," Buffy said succinctly. "He doesn't look older."

Ethan moved closer to Buffy. "It seems you are in a position then to satisfy some long-held curiosity of mine. Just what is it that he keeps in th–"

Giles frowned. "Ethan."

Ethan flashed Giles a mildly annoyed look, but held his hands up in surrender. "If you ever feel like doing so, of course," he added to Buffy before moving back to Giles' side. "Probably best you don't mention me to him, by the way."

Giles made a mental note to ask Ethan for details later, when there weren't young, possibly impressionable minds listening.

There was a drum of boots on the stairs, and Giles looked up to see Kat coming rapidly down carrying three large boxes piled on top of each other. She couldn't possibly see where she was going. Xander followed behind her at a more sedate pace, carrying just one.

"Ah Xander," Ethan said, moving to take the top box from Kat. "Always such a mensch."

"Hey!" Xander was obviously stung by the insinuation in Ethan's words. "I'm busy being a good Watcher here, training my Slayer in blind manoeuvres."

"Giles did that with me," Buffy said. "I got blindfolded and then had to throw a ball at him." She smiled brightly. "One of the funner training sessions."

"For some of us," Giles added dryly.

"Bet you're not gonna miss the protective get-up, eh, Giles?" Xander asked.

"Not the bruises at least." Giles smiled. "I quite happily bequeath those to you."

Ethan was frowning. "I don't want any abuse of Watcher privileges while you're house-sharing here." He turned to Megan. "You will tell Xander to get lost if he tries to get you to do housework and calls it training, won't you, sweetheart?"

"What, like I did to you two with all the dog-walking?" Megan asked, smiling sweetly. Ethan stuck his tongue out at her.

"The dogs are going to miss you," Giles said, glancing over where Gwydion and Skunk were sitting quietly in the corner watching the chaos of packing.

"We'll still see them plenty," Megan said, walking over to the dogs so that she could crouch down and pet them. "Won't we?" Her voice suddenly sounded a little tight.

Ethan went over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "If you don't come visiting at least once a month, there'll be trouble. And of course, we'll be carelessly shoving you out of our old room here every time we come up to the city." She looked up at that, and he winked at her.

"You're all welcome to visit any time," Giles put in, making sure his gaze took in everyone in the room, settling at the last on Xander and Kat. "We're not that far from Devon, especially in the ways you Americans measure distance, so I expect you two to drop in on the various trips back and forth."

"Well, free bed and beer is hard to turn down," Xander said. "Even if it is real ale. I've gotten a taste for the stuff actually."

Giles smiled. "We'll turn you into a proper Englishman yet."

"Cor blimey, guv. Pull the other one!" Xander's 'cockney' was, Giles thought, worse than his attempt at an upper crust accent.

"Or possibly not," he continued, doing his best not to wince.

Ethan laughed and picked up one of the boxes. "Hold the doors open for me, Rupert, like a good husband?"

"Do I get a biscuit if I do?" Giles teased as he crossed the room to do as he was asked.

"Is that all you demand for your services?" Ethan chuckled as he made his way out of the front door. "And I was prepared to give so much more."

"Well, yes, but those were things you were going to give me anyway. You're still stingy with the biscuits though." Giles took a box from Xander and followed Ethan outside.

"As I've said many times," Ethan said, heading for their hired van, "the answer is for you to understand that biscuits are not a shared commodity. I have my packets, and you have yours. It's not my fault if you don't buy yourself any."

"I do. It's funny how those become yours the second we leave the shop."

Ethan whistled a little tune as he waited by the back doors of the van, clearly expecting Giles to open them. Giles, now encumbered with his own box, just looked steadily at Ethan. It was the same look he had used on Buffy earlier. Dealing with each of them often needed the same techniques, much to Giles' amusement. However, Ethan's reaction to the look was frequently different to Buffy's.

This time, Ethan put down his box on the ground and sidled over with an evil grin. Before Giles knew it, he had Ethan's hand rummaging around in his trouser pocket, and he didn't seem all that interested in finding the keys.

"Ethan." Giles kept his voice level and a bit disapproving.

"Am I being bad?" Ethan asked with a wide-eyed look, not stopping.

"What have I said about that? If you have to ask..."

Ethan moved around behind Giles, his hand still in Giles' pocket, and pressed against him. The street was not empty. "Why don't we give all these stodgy neighbours we have here something to remember us by?" he said low beside Giles' ear.

"Because we want to be able to visit Xander and the girls without causing a scene every time we step on the street?" Giles replied, still using a reasonable voice.

Ethan sighed softly, and with one last fondle, withdrew his hand, standing back and holding the keys. "If you insist."

"I do." He waited patiently for Ethan to open the van doors.

They put the boxes inside, Ethan climbing within to strap them safely as they'd been advised. _'Don't be irritated with me, Ripper,'_ he sent. _'Not today._ '

 _'I'm not,'_ Giles replied the same way, surprised that Ethan even thought he was. _'Far from it._ '

Ethan smiled softly through the doors at Giles. _'I wasn't completely sure.'_ He moved and sat down on the edge of the van floor beside Giles. "It's leaving here that's doing it," he said quietly. "Makes me think of the early days after my... release. It's only a year ago. It feels like a decade. More, really."

Giles moved to sit beside Ethan. "Most people don't have decades as eventful as this last year has been for us."

Ethan rested their joined hands on his leg. "Sometimes I still don't quite believe it," he said, staring out into Mountbatten Road.

"It can seem like a dream sometimes," Giles said softly, knowing exactly how he felt. "Especially when everything is quiet and dark in the middle of the night and all I can hear is your breathing."

Ethan turned to look at Giles, smiling with what seemed to be a lot of emotion in the expression. "Oh, am I allowed to kiss you out here? Please do say yes."

Giles smiled. "You can kiss me anywhere."

So Ethan did, and as he did, he spoke in Giles' mind. _'You found me broken, my pride a shattered mask, and piece by piece you have rebuilt me into something that at last deserves my pride in it,'_ he sent, his thoughts intense. _'You made me a hero in your own image. You made me matter to the world and for the world to matter to me. You did this, Rupert.'_

Pulling back enough to meet Ethan's eyes, Giles shook his head slightly. ' _I may have shown you the path, but you walked it._ ' He raised a hand to touch Ethan's face. _'And you've done the same for me. Made me comfortable in my own skin in a way I haven't been since... Well, since we were together before.'_

Ethan smiled softly, sincerely. "When you lifted me from that prison bed, you were freeing yourself as well, I think. You know, for a long while afterwards I'd still find myself wondering if this were all an hallucination, but no more. Not seriously now." He snorted. "I would never have allowed myself all this even in my wildest, most fevered imaginings."

"Truth is often stranger than fiction. Better as well, in our case." Giles looked down where their hands were entwined. "But if this is all just a dream, I'm going to hurt the stupid git who wakes me up."

Ethan squeezed Giles' hand hard. "It's real. It's realer than anything that has come before for us. We were only half-alive before, only partially who we were born to be. This –you and me, no Council, no Chaos– is the pattern I've been searching for all my bloody life without knowing it, and it couldn't be more real." And as if to show just how far he had come from the emotionally brittle boy he had once been, Ethan looked deeply into Giles' eyes as he added softly, "And I couldn't love you more than I do."

Giles closed his eyes briefly. "When I was ten my father told me I had a destiny. He was right about that; he was just wrong about what the destiny was. It's you. It always has been you." The only appropriate punctuation to that was what Giles then did - he kissed Ethan breathless. _'I love you.'_


	5. Of Old Mystics Epilogue

_Clarendon Comfrey, Wiltshire. 2013._

There was mud on his shoes from the woods, Ethan noticed, frowning slightly. It was proving to be a wet May so far, although the wild rhododendrons, which were just coming into bloom, seemed to be benefiting from all the rain.

The bluebells, on the other hand, seemed to be dying down early this year.

Ethan whistled, calling the dogs to him for the short walk home. Skunk came quickly enough, her thoughts filled with images of fine smelling rabbit holes. She pawed up his trousers to get her head rubbed, leaving paw prints all the way up his leg. "Bad dog," he scolded fondly, ruffling her pied fur. She was in canine middle age now, but she wasn't showing it.

He snorted softly. It wasn't as if she was the only one rather more sprightly than she had any right to be.

Their resident wolfhound was not so prompt in response today, like most days Ethan took the dogs out alone. "Giddy!" he shouted, after a second whistle failed to produce the dog from the trees. "Gwydion, you poor excuse for a donkey, get here this minute!"

There was a bark, and then the huge hound appeared at the edge of the wood and came bounding over, looking almost sheepish when he stopped in front of Ethan. Tutting, Ethan helped both dogs over the stile and into the lane. "And he's so convinced you're the good one," he told Giddy. "You're a natural con-artist, you are."

Mud aside, it had been a pleasant walk, but Ethan never enjoyed the gentle treks as much when he was on his own. Despite, or maybe because, he'd spent so much of his life alone, Ethan now found that he craved human company most of the time. Especially that of one particular human, his husband of nearly ten years now who hadn't been able to accompany him this morning as pub business had required attention.

He unlocked the gate that led from the lane to the back garden of the Fox and Badger. The dogs bounded over to the open back door and inside, where they would inevitably leave muddy paw prints on the scullery floor. But that was all right; there was paper laid down for that very reason.

The door to the kitchen opened as Ethan was removing his shoes, his nose wrinkled fastidiously although the mud didn't smell, thank God. Even before anyone entered the small washroom, Ethan was smiling. Arms slid around his waist from behind as he straightened up again. "Good walk?" Rupert murmured into his ear.

"Muddy," Ethan replied. "But pretty." He turned around in Rupert's arms to kiss him softly. "Missed you. Did you get the delivery sorted?"

"Yes. At least until they try to pull the same thing next month." Rupert stole another kiss before adding casually, "We got a call from London."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "One I'll feel miffed to have missed?"

"Quite probably. It was Kat."

"Bugger." Ethan snuggled closer to Rupert while directing a firm mental 'Sit!' to Skunk who was trying to get their attention for herself. "So how is she?"

"She's well," Rupert replied, obligingly shifting his grip to pull Ethan even closer. "Very well indeed." He paused. "She and Xander are expecting."

Ethan froze for a second or so. Then he asked urgently, "When? How many months on is she?" He separated himself from Rupert just enough for their eyes to meet.

"'When' is this October. She said she's about four months, give or take." Rupert smiled. "Xander apparently is 'wigging out, but in a positive sort of way'."

October. Christ, there was so much to do. "Our first... grandchild? Godchild? We're so old, dearheart." Ethan laughed. One of their girls was going to be a mother... "Do they have a gender for it yet?"

"Not that Kat mentioned. Actually, we may not have one until October; she kept talking about not cheating."

Neutral colours then, for clothes and décor – wasn't that how it went? Toys, Ethan had to assume, were largely ungendered for little babies. Just how much fuss would Rupert make if Ethan tried to drag him around Mothercare to see what was available today? There was so much Kat would need. A cot, oh, and a pram, or did mothers all just use those stroller things now? Now that he thought about it, Ethan didn't think he'd seen an old fashioned pram for decades. He wasn't even sure Mothercare still existed.

Hell, he didn't know the first thing about all this. Ethan brought a hand to his mouth and bit his knuckle. Rupert was watching him with a fond smile on his face. "Tell me what you're thinking," he bid, gently pulling Ethan's hand away and tracing Ethan's lips with his thumb.

Ethan shook himself out of it and curved his lips into a smirk. "Oh, tawdry, over-sentimental drivel. Of no interest to a manly man such as yourself."

Rupert laughed. "Manly man?"

"You're the one who can pass for straight, remember?" Ethan chuckled briefly. "If you must know, I was thinking about everything we'll need to get for them. You know, in our role as doting umph-parents."

"Making a list and checking it twice?" Rupert teased.

"Do you see a long white beard?" Ethan asked with a mock-frown. "I might be soon to be a Grand-something, but I have no intention of looking the part."

"I'm beginning to wonder if we're ever going to look that part," Rupert said thoughtfully. "I never expected to be quite this well-preserved at mumblety-four."

"We're not aging, dear." Ethan stroked Rupert's cheek. "I told you before that I suspected it, but I'm becoming more and more convinced. I watch other people's patterns as they get older, and the patterns change. Ours haven't changed since our fight against the Bear. It must have been a side-effect of... well, something."

"Love, magic, destiny, forever," Rupert murmured, almost to himself. Then aloud he said, "Do you remember? The time we had sex in my office when you did some kind of spontaneous magic, but we couldn't figure out what?"

Ethan snorted, laughed, and then frowned. "I may be powerful, dear, but I really don't think I'm powerful enough to conjure perpetual life for two people with just a little bit of admittedly wonderful desktop shagging for juice."

"What with everything else that was happening, ultimately binding us together until we were literally, if briefly, one, it wouldn't really surprise me if you had. Or," Rupert continued more thoughtfully, "at least prepared the way for something more powerful to do the job."

"Hmm." Ethan thought about that. "You may actually have a point. The radical way in which I twisted us to become one – well, I say I, but really I just started the ball rolling." He snorted, remembering how unstoppable the process had felt once it had begun. It didn't feel like ten years ago; he could remember it so acutely. "But, yes, it could have changed things, especially with an earlier spell to smooth the pitch."

Ethan let his attention move inward, exploring his own patterns and looking for proof of the theory, but other than the impression of wholeness that both their patterns had possessed ever since they had come together as the giant guardian bloke, there was nothing to validate the idea. Mind you, there was nothing to disprove it either.

Rupert chuckled, watching him fondly. "And you're going to work at the puzzle now until you get an answer. We really aren't that different at the core, are we, love?"

Ethan tightened his hold on Rupert as he returned his attention to the here and now. "If you look deep inside the nucleus of every cell of my body, you will find your name written there... and vice versa."

Rupert looked at him intently as if searching for just such a mark. "Wouldn't surprise me at all," he finally said softly, touching Ethan's cheek again.

"Well, our external world changes even if our internal one doesn't." Ethan kissed Rupert on the temple. "Do we have enough staff coming in today to allow us to skive off and head for Salisbury? I fancy doing some window-shopping."

"I think we can manage that." Rupert smiled. "What's the use of being the owners if we can't give ourselves the day off every now and then?"

"We can call it a staff training day to develop initiative." Grinning, Ethan pulled back, although he kept hold of Rupert's hand. "Well, I want clothes that are considerably less muddy if we're going to what passes for the big city around here. Come upstairs with me while I change?"

"Generally me accompanying you upstairs while you change slows down the actual changing process," Rupert pointed out, but obligingly followed Ethan up the narrow staircase to their flat anyway.

"Generally, we're not going shopping for our first grandchild." Might as well call the brat what he was already thinking of it as.

"And that is going to stop us when fire, flood and visiting friends don't?" Rupert sounded amused.

"We can shag when we get back... or maybe while we're out. You never did let me take you in Salisbury Cathedral." Ethan opened his wardrobe and started to rummage. He thought he was in a tailored but casual mood today.

"That's doubtful to change either." Rupert leant against their bedroom doorway as he watched Ethan.

"Spoilsport." Ethan quickly changed his trousers. His shirt, he thought, would do, providing he wore the Galliano jacket he'd got for Christmas over the top of it. "Kat is taking care, isn't she?"

"Of course. She's a doctor, remember? She knows what she can and can't do."

Ethan stared out of one of the french windows, looking at the fields and trees he'd been walking within a few minutes ago. "And they're going to remain here? In the UK?"

"With Xander now the provisional Council head since Wiggins retired, they really don't have much choice about staying within commuting distance of London," Rupert reminded him.

"Sometimes Watchers retire," Ethan reminded in turn, but he felt reassured. He turned and walked over to Rupert. "Shall I call Trish and tell her she's opening up today?"

Rupert grinned. "Already did, as soon as I got off the phone with Kat."

That made Ethan laugh. "So I'm getting that predictable in my old age? I'll have to do something about that."

"I knew you were going to say that," Rupert deadpanned.

Ethan wrapped his arms around Rupert and patted his arse. "Stop teasing," he said, pretending to sulk.

Rupert slid his arms around Ethan's waist in return. "I've long since become immune to the pouting as well."

"Now, I know that's not true." Ethan laughed. "And so do you."

"Well, more immune than I used to be." Rupert smiled, and still chuckling, Ethan slid his hand to the back of Rupert's neck and drew him in for a kiss. He complied easily and only when he pulled back did he point out, "And this is why me coming upstairs with you generally delays us."

Now Ethan felt torn; he wriggled against Rupert, but it was at least half a fidget. "I seem to want two things at once," he admitted.

"That's not unusual for you," Rupert said. He seemed to be waiting for Ethan to choose which he wanted more. Ethan wrestled with the problem for a moment... and then dropped to his knees. Rupert's mouth curved upwards. "Praying for enlightenment?"

"Oh, not anymore," Ethan said, pressing his lips to the front of Rupert's trousers. "I believe I'm having an epiphany."

"Leaving for Salisbury right now seems to be losing ground, I see."

Ethan nuzzled into the growing bulge. "Do you want me to stop?"

"I didn't say that," was the gratifyingly quick reply.

This was all as easy as breathing these days, if considerably more enjoyable. Ethan quickly undid Rupert's trousers and freed him, stroking the side of his face against the warm cock as he breathed in the clean, musky scent that was all Rupert.

He heard Rupert inhale deeply and let the breath out in a sigh as he seemed to relax into Ethan's touch. One hand came up and lightly stroked Ethan's hair. With a happy little noise, Ethan turned his head enough to take Rupert inside his mouth, one hand coming up to hold the base of Rupert's cock, the other to fondle his arse.

He could feel Rupert's muscles tensing under his attentions and knew that he was resisting the urge to take control and thrust as he wanted to. Ethan chuckled around his mouthful. ' _Stop fighting it, Ripper,_ ' he sent, letting go of Rupert's cock with his hand. ' _Why do I always have to tell you that? Take what you need from me. Always._ '

Rupert's fingers gripping his head tightly was all the warning Ethan had before Rupert took him at his word and began fucking his mouth in earnest.

Ethan never stopped enjoying the feel of his mouth full of Rupert, no matter how frequent an occurrence this was. The taste and texture of Rupert's cock, the slight strain of Ethan's jaw muscles, and the thrill of being used so thoroughly – it was all simultaneously comforting in its utter familiarity and arousing in a thoroughly ingrained way. Ethan relaxed, regulated his breathing, and just allowed himself to relish the ride.

As always, no matter how long it lasted, it was over far too soon. Rupert's thrusts became rougher and more erratic and his grip on Ethan's hair tightened to the point of pain and then he was coming down Ethan's throat, Ethan's name on his lips like a prayer.

Afterwards, Ethan gently freed himself and pulled back, sitting back on his heels. He grinned up at a rather wobbly looking Rupert. "There now. Don't you feel better for that?"

"I wasn't feeling bad before you had your epiphany," Rupert pointed out. Then he caressed Ethan's face and continued in a softer tone, "but I always feel better when you're touching me."

Ethan nuzzled Rupert's hand and then moved forward to tidy Rupert's clothes. "I suppose we should liaise with Kat's folks. We don't want to duplicate any purchases."

Rupert chuckled. "We will, but I think we'll be safe enough shopping today. Especially if we perhaps stick to larger items; it would be easier for us to buy such things than for Kat's family to ship them over from America." He tugged gently on Ethan's hand, pulling him to his feet. "And you're ready to go shopping just like that?"

"I'm saving up my reciprocation points for a nice long shag tonight." Ethan winked. "Come along now, dear. We want to get there with plenty of time to shop before we stop for lunch."

Rupert muttered something about delays and epiphanies under his breath, but followed Ethan down the stairs willingly enough.

"Trish know that she has to look in at our hounds once in a while?" Ethan asked as they grabbed their jackets.

"The difficult thing would be to get her to not check on them," Rupert said, smiling. "Trish adores the dogs. I wouldn't be surprised if they're down in the common room keeping her company when we get back."

"Yes, they know a pushover when they meet one." Ethan sent a firm mental message to behave to Skunk, who promptly scampered out from the kitchen to see them off.

Giddy followed, going directly to Rupert for farewell pats. "They certainly did when they met us," Rupert said ruefully even as he gave his pet the asked for attention.

"Who's driving?" Ethan asked, knowing perfectly well what the answer would be. Rupert was still in the overly precious stage of new car ownership since they'd part-exchanged for the latest BMW model. And indeed Rupert just gave him a level 'you know the answer' look and a raised eyebrow.

It was a lovely car, Ethan admitted to himself as he settled into the passenger's seat. On-screen heads-up graphics, GPS routing, and a wonderful multimedia system all came fitted, much to Ethan's pleasure, not to mention the deep luxury of the upholstery and UHD hydraulic suspension, which made it feel as if they were floating no matter how rough the road surface. Plus, it was as sleek and stylish as a Galliano suit from the outside.

None of this explained why he wasn't allowed to drive it.

Asking Rupert why hadn't proven any more enlightening as the answer had consisted of mostly disbelieving laughter and the words "chitty chitty bang bang" and "never again." Just because of the old Rover's final fate. Rupert was never going to let that lie.

Or, apparently, ever let Ethan behind the wheel of their new car. Ethan sighed and adjusted his seat with the digital control pad. "We'll have to get child-seats too, for when she or he comes to stay."

"Perhaps we should concentrate on getting things for Kat and Xander first," Rupert suggested as he pulled the car out onto the road, as usual obviously relishing the way it handled. "We can work on what we might need for visits later."

And just what should they get for the soon-to-be parents? Large items, Rupert had said. The more Ethan thought about this, the more he realised that he didn't have the first clue about childcare. After they'd driven a few miles and had joined the main road, he asked, "And what about the Coven? Has Lucy heard the news yet?"

"We were Kat's first phone call, with Megan apparently next on the agenda. Knowing the Coven, I wouldn't be surprised if they already knew though."

"You could call Keri if you like," Ethan said as casually as he knew how. "See if she might drop any hints about our whatever-it-is to-be."

Rupert glanced over at him. "I doubt she would tell us anything we could decipher, or anything that Kat doesn't want to know yet." Which was probably true. Ah well, time to resort to the trusty tarot cards, Ethan supposed. "And you don't need to be doing any divination either," Rupert continued. "If Kat wants to wait, we can wait."

Ethan glared at the side of Rupert's head. "While I normally rather like you inside me in any way, there are times where you can just keep out of my mind, thank you."

Rupert smiled faintly. "That generally is when I most need to be in there."

"Hmm." Ethan decided a good sulk was probably called for and folded his arms. After a few moments, he got bored of that and turned on some music. Rupert chuckled.

It didn't take all that long before they were in the outskirts of Salisbury, looking for a space at the park-and-ride. A little longer on from that and they were walking down Castle Street heading initially for the market.

Ethan held Rupert's hand as they walked. Things had become a lot easier in the world during the last decade. Well, in the UK anyway. Not that gay bashing was completely a thing of the past, and not that the pair didn't still get the evil-eye looks cast their way occasionally, but people generally knew better than to give them any significant level of grief these days.

"Anywhere in particular you want to start?" Rupert asked.

The market always appealed, but it wasn't really the right place for what Ethan wanted to investigate today. "Mothercare, or whatever it is they're calling it these days. I thought we could have a quick look around all the appropriate shops and pick up brochures as we go... then have a bite to eat and a pint and check through them. Oh, and then head for the warehouse parks and industrial estates to check out the superstores."

"All right." Rupert looked amused as they changed direction to head for the shops Ethan had mentioned.

Ethan glanced at him. "You think I'm being what? Odd? Over the top?"

"Enthusiastic," Rupert replied. "Nothing wrong with that. Although I am thinking it's perhaps a good thing that we as a couple are incapable of having children. Your... enthusiasm over such an event quite probably would have overwhelmed us both."

Ethan felt his brows draw together. "I'm probably clever enough to twist you in such a way that would allow you to carry a child, you know," he said pointedly.

Rupert laughed then stopped abruptly and looked at Ethan with a frown. "You can't be serious."

Ethan hid his smirk through the pretence of looking in a travel shop window. "Perfectly, I assure you." He could feel Rupert staring at him. "I'd think you'd enjoy having breasts," he continued, looking at pictures of Barbados. "I remember a time when you were very keen to cast a spell that would give the nasty things to me."

"You were asking for it," Rupert replied, seeming to start to rally from the stunned state in which Ethan had managed to put him.

"Maybe we better look into maternity wear while we're here." Ethan began walking again, heading for the new shopping arcade wherein most of the in-town stores he wanted currently abided.

Rupert quickly caught up. "You do know," he said casually, "if you turn me into a woman then you would actually have to sleep with a woman."

"Hmm, I never said I was going to turn you into a woman." It felt important to point that out. "Just twist you so that you could carry a growing child and then feed it once it was born. You're a natural nurturer, Rupert. You'll be fine." Ethan was having great trouble keeping the amusement from his voice.

"Did you ever seriously consider it?" Rupert asked, sounding both serious and curious.

"Making you pregnant?" Ethan laughed, finally looking at Rupert. "No dear. We have enough surrogate children between us, don't you think?"

"Not the making me...." Rupert trailed off and waved a hand as if dispersing that idea. "But... children. That weren't just surrogate."

"Little ones, you mean, rather than those who arrive pre-grown? It's not really us, is it? We're too old, too male, too set in our ways. Too immoral in my case too. Who in their right mind would ever allow me to be an adoptive parent? Ah, here we go." Ethan took Rupert's hand again and pulled him into Parentcare World.

"That wasn't really an answer," Rupert pointed out. "Just a list of roadblocks."

The store was large, covering multiple floors, and entering felt immediately like walking into a world in which Ethan himself could only ever be a visiting alien on a limited visa. Parents with children were everywhere, as were mothers-to-be, their backs arched as they tried to support the weight of their swollen wombs. Ethan stopped dead and tried hard not to actually take steps backwards.

Rupert chuckled and squeezed his hand. "Although I suppose that is an answer of sorts. Children terrify you."

"Let's just get the brochures and run," Ethan said in a tight voice, gripping Rupert's hand hard. "Oh good God, is that... What is that?" He was staring at what seemed to be a huge plastic oak tree growing out of the floor in the centre of the shop; a menacing grin was sculpted into its bark. "Rupert, it's singing."

Rupert looked very much as if he was trying not to burst out in full laughter. "Yes, I do believe you're right."

A very small child chose this moment to slam into Ethan's leg and fall over, bursting into tears and putting chocolaty fingers all over Ethan's trouser bottoms. Her harassed mother didn't even have a chance to finish her stammered apology before Ethan had turned around and gone back out of the door into the arcade.

Rupert followed him, doing his best to look sympathetic. His best in this case wasn't very good.

"Shut up," Ethan said, staring face front.

"I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking it loud enough for the whole shopping centre to hear."

Rupert moved close enough to slide an arm around Ethan's waist. "It's just a store, love. Granted, full of children, but that's why we're here, isn't it?"

"We'll use mail order. Internet shopping. Never have to visit one of these places again." About to stride off, Ethan caught himself and paused. "I don't suppose you'd be prepared to go back in without me and fetch a catalogue?"

"No. But I would be prepared to back in there with you," Rupert said, holding out a hand to Ethan. "You faced down Vaurtain; are you really going to let a store full of children beat you?"

"There was a... tree," Ethan said weakly.

"A plastic tree. It's just a display. It isn't going to attack you."

"How do you know that? It's exactly the sort of thing that I–" He stopped. That probably wasn't the wisest thing to say under the circumstances.

"Well, you didn't, and it would be a foolhardy Chaos mage indeed to set up shop in our territory." The possessiveness in Rupert's voice resonated well with how Ethan felt for their adopted region. At least when he didn't think of the tree waiting for him.

"There is chocolate on my trouser legs." Ethan tried his last ditch defence.

"Well then, the worst has already happened, and you have survived."

Ethan sighed. "Right. Have it your way. But we're just going to locate a free catalogue and leave, ok?"

Rupert nodded. "Best to take these things in small steps."

"Baby steps?" Ethan shot Rupert an acid look before heading back into the store.

"Appropriate, don't you think?" Rupert replied, wearing the faintest of smiles.

"Catalogues and the latest stylings in maternity bras for men," Ethan said sharply, staring around the battlefield once more. "I think... hmm, this way." He headed through an area full of children's clothes.

Rupert followed, idly looking through the clothes as they walked. "People actually put their children in some of these outfits?" He stopped abruptly and laughed. "Although some I can see us buying." When Ethan looked, Rupert pointed out a small leather jacket in a similar style to the one he owned himself.

It was... cute. Oh God. Ethan hurried on, only to find himself confronted with the tiniest pairs of boots he'd ever seen. He paused to feel the leather. "Surely infants this small can't walk."

"Their feet would still get cold," Rupert pointed out. "Besides, I think it would be more about having the complete look." He smiled at Ethan. "As you are so fond of pointing out to me when I let you go on a shopping spree."

There was a baby in a pushchair thing beside him. Ethan looked at it and saw it was sporting pretty black leather shoes with pink flowers. They did indeed match the rest of the little child's ensemble, even up to the tiny beret with pink roses... even the little smile that the brat was unaccountably giving him seemed part of the 'look'. He smiled back at it, at her he guessed, rather tentatively, and won a gurgling giggle as a reward.

 _'Not so horrible after all, is it?'_ Rupert sent; Ethan looked up to see Rupert smiling fondly at him.

"Do you think they'll visit a lot once it's born?" Ethan moved a little closer to Rupert. "I, er... I don't want to miss out on..."

"I'd insist on it, if I were you, dear," said a shorthaired, older women standing nearby – the baby's grandmother? "They grow up so quickly. Every day they seem to be breaking another milestone, learning new ways to capture this old heart of mine. Before I know it, they'll be as grown up as their mothers." She chuckled at the men. "Three daughters, I had, and it seems they're all destined to have daughters too. Still, saves money with the hand-me-downs. How far along is your" –she paused to look between them– "daughter?"

"About four months," Rupert answered, letting her assumption stand; it wasn't that far off the truth, emotionally at least. "We just found out actually."

"Your first?" the woman asked.

Ethan nodded and then ventured to say, "We're looking for things to buy, to help them out."

The woman smiled. "Well, I wouldn't worry about clothes just yet, if I were you. Big things like cots and changing centres, help fitting out the little one's nursery – that's what they'll most appreciate currently."

"Yes, we were leaning in that direction. We were just distracted by the..." Rupert hesitated, seeming to be searching for the proper word, "styles in tiny sizes."

The woman chuckled. "Buying clothes and toys is the fun part; they'll have no shortage of people helping there, I'm sure."

Ethan felt a pang of something unidentifiable. "Does that mean we can't buy them too?"

"The prerogative of grandparents is that they can buy whatever they want, whenever they want to," the woman assured them with an amused smile.

The baby kicked and made a small noise, perhaps agreeing but perhaps just wanting attention, and the woman bent to give her just that. Ethan stared down at them, feeling no less out of his depth, but wondering if the deep end would be as bad as all that anyhow.

Rupert had moved off, having apparently caught sight of a customer service counter with a pile of catalogues on it. Ethan smiled goodbye at the nice woman and her grandchild and hurried after him. "All right, so that one was sweet," he said grudgingly when he caught up.

"Most children are," Rupert said. "You were, if our dreams were anywhere close to reality."

That made him snort. "And look what happened to me." Ethan's mood seemed to darken suddenly where he stood, and he waved a hand around taking in the store with his gesture. "Any one of these children could be something terrible, something worse even than a slighted Chaos mage. They look so innocent..." He faltered, suddenly seeing the faces of the children in the shop, all of them. They weren't looking at him, but his pattern sense was extending instinctively, and it was as if they were.

There was no evil here. These children were just that, children. Little Adams and Eves still walking in their Edens, not understanding what was to come. Even he had been that way once; Rupert was right. And whatever he had been through since, no one could deny that Ethan had refound paradise now, and maybe these kids would be that lucky too.

"Any one of these children could be a Slayer or a Watcher, or a soldier, sailor or beggarman," Rupert said. "Well, hopefully not that last. But that's what children are, their magic and their allure. Children are potential. All paths are open to them." Rupert smiled. "It's which ones they choose to follow that will shape the adults they will become."

Ethan heard what Rupert said but didn't answer, his attention abruptly caught by something else in a way that shocked him. Had his pattern sight not been extended, the small boy near them would have simply passed by unnoticed amongst the many others. Ethan whimpered slightly, muttering, "It can't be."

He heard Rupert say his name questioningly, but Ethan's attention was firmly caught by the towheaded boy who was maybe three or four at the most. He was slight of stature and was seriously talking to the cuddly lion he carried as he trailed along after his mother.

"It can't be," Ethan repeated. "You can't be..." He reached out a shaking hand towards the boy, but let it drop again. He had to remember where he was and how this would appear. The last thing he wanted was to scare the lad. Not now.

The boy didn't seem to be afraid or even startled by Ethan, however; in fact, he was looking at Ethan with a slight puzzled frown as if he were trying to remember something.

Behind him, Ethan could sense Rupert moving closer and felt him rest a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Ethan, what–?"

Ethan strained his pattern senses to the limit, looking at the boy deeper than he'd ever looked at anyone not either Rupert or Dawn, but his conclusions remained the same. "Oh God," he whispered, and then he smiled at the boy, for how could he not? "Hello," he said softly.

Far too familiar wide blue eyes met Ethan's, and he saw the moment they lit up with recognition. A wide smile split the young face, and the boy spoke.

"Hello, old fox."

 

~THE END~

**Author's Note:**

> So very many thanks go to Wesleysgirl and mpoetess for staunch and reliable betaing throughout this massive project.


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